Free Falling
by Robinjay
Summary: Life after the war holds many uncertainties for those who survived. Katie Bell is determined to find her place in a world more complicated than she ever envisioned, and Oliver Wood struggles to overcome a potentially career ending attack. She and Oliver must also contend with grieving friends, confusing families and the prospect of moving on from the past, for better or for worse.
1. New Friends, Old Stories

If anyone knew anything about Oliver Wood, they knew he lived and breathed Quidditch. He wasn't fully alive until he was flying through the air, eyes tracking the quaffle, prepared at any moment to dive or twist in order to catch it. The moment he stepped onto a broomstick, he transformed into a man with a singular purpose, a singular goal.

Oliver Wood didn't know how to live without Quidditch, and yet Katie Bell was afraid he might have to learn very rapidly.

At least she no longer feared he wouldn't live at all. That, at least, represented a marked improvement from the day before. Then, she only knew the healers at St. Mungo's had listed his condition as critical. Today, they told her he would live. As for flying, or even walking, well, they couldn't guarantee any results.

He still hadn't awoken, and so she sat next to him in a hard, spindly chair covered only by a ratty cushion. She'd known Oliver for years, ever since she joined the Gryffindor Quidditch team her second year, and she knew the first question to leave his lips would pertain to Quidditch. She hoped that if she, a familiar and friendly face broke the news to him rather than a tired, strange Healer, he might not crumble immediately. He might not lose hope. She understood as well as anyone in this hospital the value of hope.

Angelina and Alicia had remained with her for the first few hours, but then Alicia had received a message from Lee begging for help with George, who'd gone nearly mad with grief in the weeks since his twin's death. They already knew Oliver would survive, but no such certainly existed with George, so she'd told them, looking directly at Angelina, to go, to help Lee. In truth, though, Angelina needed the help herself, and watching over one more friend wounded by that stupid war wouldn't provide her with any comfort. Just another reminder of what they all still had to lose.

"You'd think with the war over, this wouldn't happen."

The voice startled her, and she jumped in her chair. It came from a man who spoke with a slight Scottish brogue, similar to Oliver's, and once she'd recovered from the initial shock, she noticed other similarities as well.

A rather burly, stocky man with fair brown hair and deep brown eyes entered the room. Thought his hair was a shade lighter than Oliver's, the nose, the sharp cheekbones, the glint in his eye all felt exceedingly familiar. Too familiar.

"I forgot Oliver had a brother," she said, venturing a guess at the man's identity. "There weren't any other Woods at school, and he rarely mentioned you."

"Well, I'm five years older and fifty years wiser than my little brother, so we were never that close." He loped in easily and pulled up one of the other chairs, this one an alarming shade of puce. The chair dragged across the floor with a horrid shriek, and she winced. "Sorry," he said.

"No, I'm sorry. I should have reached out to you earlier, but honestly, it slipped my mind once I owled his parents."

He shook his head. "From what I understand, I couldn't have done much anyways. Besides, the wizarding world is small. I actually heard from Charlie before I heard from mum and da."

Now it was her turn to shake her head. "I'm sorry, Charlie who?"

"Oh, Merlin, I shouldn't have assumed you'd know. Charlie Weasley. Old teammate of Ollie's and, uh, and a friend of mine. I don't know who told him, though."

"Probably Angelina. She's been talking to George's family pretty regularly, trying to figure out how to help him." She grimaced. "Not that we've had much luck."

"This is George Weasley, Charlie's younger brother?"

"Oh yes, sorry, _I_ shouldn't have assumed you'd know." She paused again. "I don't actually know your name, to tell the truth. That's even more embarrassing."

"It's Sean, and it's not a problem. Thank you for being here with him, Katie."

Now she blushed. "So you knew who I was already, and I'm the fool who forgot to contact his brother."

"Well, I used to come to some of Ollie's Quidditch matches when I was around, which wasn't very often, mind you, but I liked to see him lose to Ravenclaw." He grinned. "You always played quite well. You and the others, Alice and Angelica was it?"

"Angelina and Alicia, yeah." She took a moment to process the information. "You were in Ravenclaw then."

"Like I said, fifty years wiser. And a little less obsessed with Quidditch."

"Most people are," she snorted, but then she recalled the situation and her laughter halted. No one loved Quidditch like Oliver Wood, and yet he might be the one to lose it.

"How bad is it, Katie?" he asked, his expression grave.

She gulped, not knowing what to tell him, what he might already know. She started with the basics. "He's going to make it, which is, well, it's more than they could tell me yesterday. Beyond that, they don't know if he'll be able to fly or even to walk." Her eyes stung with unbidden tears. "He was hit by several curses, and they all mixed together and one of them was sort of eating away at the muscles in his leg, at least that's how they described it to me, and he wasn't breathing properly either. He looks okay now, but yesterday when they were still shoving potions down his throat and they couldn't stop the bleeding, it was just horrible. Absolutely horrible." Tears slid down her cheeks, hot and burning. "I don't know what else to tell you."

Sean didn't say a word. Instead, he leaned in and wrapped his arms around her in an awkward yet firm hug. She melted into it, releasing all of the tears and the fear from the past two days in the arms of a man she'd never met before. It definitely ranked as one of the stranger experiences in her life.

When she pulled away, she wiped her sleeve clumsily over her face, trying to clear her eyes. "Merlin," she laughed shakily. "I must look a mess."

He laughed along with her. "I've seen worse, believe me." She shot him a questioning look. "I'm actually a healer, you know. I work in Bucharest, in Romania, which is how I got to know Charlie, but I've seen people on the worst days of their lives. It's nice to know that Ollie has some people who really care about him, too."

"I had no idea you were a healer. I could try to find one, maybe if you want more specific information. They mentioned something about a masticating hex and an infinisangueo curse, and one of the potions they gave him was called Lolithorpe's brew, which sounded familiar but I kind of forget what it does, and—

"Slow down, Katie. I'll get everything I need to know later. Right now, I'm here as a brother, not a healer. I trained at St. Mungo's, so I trust the people who work here. Now breathe."

She took several deep breaths, relishing in the subtle wave of calm that washed over her. She hadn't realized she'd been shaking until the trembling halted. She chuckled nervously again. "Sorry again."

"You apologize too much, especially for someone who has nothing to apologize for." He eyed her critically. "When did you last eat something? Did you spend the night here?"

She had to think on the first question a moment. "Angelina brought me a pasty this morning when she came by, but I think that's it. That was around eight in the morning or so, I'd say."

"Well, it's currently four in the afternoon, and I assuming since you didn't answer my second question that you did indeed spend the night here, which is against hospital protocol by the way."

"Someone needed to be here," she said defiantly.

He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I don't doubt that. I'm just surprised they let a non-blood relative stay after visiting hours. Still doesn't change the fact that you need to eat something. Let me take you out to lunch somewhere. You can eat and get out of this place at the same time, two birds with one stone as they say."

"Someone needs to—

"My parents will be here in half an hour. From the looks of it, he's unlikely to wake up in the next thirty minutes, but if it makes you feel better we can wait until they arrive."

She relented, "If you want to see your parents, let's wait, but otherwise we can go now, I suppose."

"I saw them earlier today, stopped by before I came here. I think your need for food is more pressing than any filial obligation I may have at the moment."

"If you say so." She glanced around and noticed for the first time a mirror hanging on the wall in the corner. She stood and walked quickly over to it and gasped. "Merlin, I really do look a mess."

"If you didn't, I'd suspect you were part veela. I can give you a few minutes to freshen up if you like."

She shook her head. "There's nothing I can really do in five minutes that could make enough of a difference. Let's just go now."

He smiled gently at her. "Great. I know a good spot not too far from here, a muggle place. They have excellent dumplings."

The sunshine blinded her when she stepped outside of the hospital for the first time in more than twenty four hours. Even though the windows in Oliver's room allowed for some natural light to filter in and augment the illumination provided by the magical lighting of St. Mungo's, none of it compared to the sun and the warmth of a mild summer day. The open clear sky acted as a balm, soothing some of the tension in her limbs. Illogically, she felt more optimistic than she had since she'd heard about the attack even though technically little had changed.

Sean noticed the change in her posture and grinned. "It's good to get out once in a while. I learned that pretty quickly when I was in training."

She smiled ruefully. "You're right, I suppose. I'm just used to discounting any advice Oliver offers me, but you're not him."

"No, I'm not Ollie. I'm not sure the world could handle two people with that much of a Quidditch obsession." He placed a quick hand on her elbow, nudging her along. "It's this way, not too far, just a few blocks."

They began walking down the streets of muggle London. Katie was English and had lived in England her whole life, but she'd rarely spent any time wandering around the capital city. The hustle and rush of all the people around overwhelmed her slightly. So many people, and so few of them knew about the hospital they were passing by just now. So few could see it.

"I hope you like Chinese," Sean offered as a conversation starter. "When I didn't feel like cooking, I used to come here occasionally. Some weeks I even came several times."

"You think they'll recognize you?"

"It's been a few years, but if Billy's still there, he might. He's the manager," he added quickly. "I spent more than a few late nights at one of the corner tables, talked to him a few times. We're taking a right here, by the way."

They turned the corner, scooting around a couple who collectively were walking five dogs. The sidewalks were still slightly damp from a morning shower and an occasional strong whiff of city smell reached her nose, but she relished in the fresh air that flowed around her. After several more blocks, Sean pointed at a small shop on the right side of the street, a rather nondescript little place.

"This is us," he said, and they crossed the road.

Once inside, her hunger pangs immediately doubled in intensity. She inhaled the enticing scent of steamed vegetables and soy sauce and hot cooking oil. Heaven, she thought, this is heaven. The restaurant wasn't terribly large, and the metal tables and chairs showed some signs of age. The kitchen was visible from behind the counter which ran along the left wall. Two cooks were frying up something in the back, most likely for the couple sitting at one of tables further in the back.

"Smells pretty good, eh?" Sean remarked.

"It smells delicious. No wonder you came here so often."

"Just wait till you actually eat the food. Then you'll really understand."

The two of them grabbed one of the corner tables, one next to the window that provided a perfect view of the street outside. Sean had already picked up two menus when they first arrived, but he didn't even glance at his as Katie perused the options. As she scanned the options, she murmured, "Shit. I don't have any money, or not muggle money."

"I've got you covered," said Sean.

"I can't," she protested.

"After sitting by my brother's bedside for the past two days, you can and you will." She didn't argue any further, but returned to her perusal of the menu.

"What are you getting?" she asked him after a moment.

"What I always ordered. Garlic eggplant and chicken with brown rice. Nothing too fancy, but still quite delicious.

"That does sound nice." She looked over the back page. "I think wide wok noodles with beef and vegetables will do for me."

"Excellent choice."

She set down the menu on the table. One of the waiters—not Billy, since Sean didn't recognize him—came over and took their order after bringing over two cups of ice water and a pitcher. Now they waited.

Sean broke the silence. "If you don't mind me asking, why did you spend two days in the hospital with Oliver? Are you two…involved?"

She snorted, nearly choking on her water. "Merlin no," she sputtered. "Just friends."

"A fairly devoted friend. I never knew you were that close."

"I'm not even sure we are." Sean shot her a questioning look.

"Care to explain?"

"Well, I hardly saw him at all last year. I mean, we kept in touch after he graduated, and he even visited me once or twice my seventh year when I was in St. Mungo's—

"You were in St. Mungo's your seventh year?"

She flushed. "Yeah. Kind of a long story involving a cursed necklace. I spent a few months here, nearly had to repeat the year."

He whistled. "That sounds horrible."

"It was." She hesitated for a moment before continuing. "I'm just glad I didn't have to repeat the year because, well, I'm muggleborn so Hogwarts wouldn't have really been an option for me last year, and I don't think I could go back after everything that happened in May."

"That's understandable," he said sympathetically. "Oliver visited you when you were here?"

"Oh, yeah, a couple of times when he wasn't traveling all over the place with Puddlemere. I don't really remember my first month in there anyways, so he might have come by without me knowing then. Last year, well, I couldn't get a wizarding job or anything, so I sort of laid low, tried to do some work helping friends in the order while working some shifts as a waitress. I didn't lay low enough, so I ended up in hiding for a while." She shrugged. "I didn't really see Oliver at all last year. The battle of Hogwarts was the first time I'd talked to him in person in months."

"But you're here now."

"I'm here now. I, uh, when I heard what happened, all I could think was 'Not another one,' you know? Not another friend. Alicia heard from one of her cousins who works in St. Mungo's that Puddlemere's keeper had been admitted, and she rounded up me and Angelina."

"They're not here, though."

"No, they have someone else to look after. Another friend."

"Are they hurt too?"

"Not physically, no. Emotionally, mentally, yes. It's all a little complicated."

He sat back in his chair. "There's nothing complicated about death, assuming that's what they're dealing with."

"It is for him, sort of." She swallowed hard. "You know Fred Weasley died? If you know Charlie?"

Sean's expression grew dark. "Is it George, then? Your friend?"

Katie nodded. "Yes."

"And you're not there with him now?"

"Angelina and Alicia were always a bit closer with the two of them, Fred and George I mean. They were the same year and all, and they also know Lee pretty well, who's another friend." She shook her head. "I wouldn't be any help there. Too many people. So I stayed with Oliver."

"Thank you for staying, whatever the reason." Katie blushed a little at how sincere his voice sounded. "Seriously, thank you."

"I'm just being a good friend."

"A very good one, Katie. I hope he appreciates it once he's awake, but even if he's being an ass, know that I appreciate it."

She laughed. "You think he'll be an ass when he wakes up?"

"I don't know how he'll react to his situation. He's never been the most easygoing of people."

"You could say that."

They sat in silence a moment, interrupted only when their waiter came to them bearing two steaming plates of sumptuous-smelling food. Katie dug in immediately, shoving large forkfuls of noodles into her mouth with abandon. Sean ate in a more restrained fashion, but he also had most likely eaten a proper meal today, so she found she didn't care. After she finished chewing her most recent mouthful of beef, she resumed the conversation.

"What about you?"

"What about me?" said Sean, placing a piece of eggplant almost delicately into his mouth.

"Well, I told you all about myself and my life, so what about you? You're Oliver's elusive older brother."

Sean snorted. "Hardly elusive. I just have a life in Bucharest, and like I said before, we've never been too close."

"What, you don't like Quidditch or something?"

"I played beater for Ravenclaw, as a matter of fact."

Katie regarded him skeptically. "You, a beater?"

He feigned hurt. "You don't believe me? What, do I not look strong enough for it?"

"No, you just seem, I don't know, too nice to be a beater? Like all the beaters I know take some perverse pleasure in chucking bludgers at other people. I didn't peg you as the type."

"I always saw it as more of a defensive role, really, protecting my team. Doesn't mean I didn't occasionally break a couple of limbs," he smirked.

"Well, I see that mania runs strong in your family then."

He laughed. "I don't know about that. I liked Quidditch, always enjoyed beating Ollie at it when we were kids, but I never wanted to play professionally. I figured out pretty early on that I took more pleasure in healing people than hurting them."

"How very gentlemanly of you."

He raised his hands in defense. "It's the truth. I always felt so bad if I really hurt someone in a match, always made sure to visit them later in the Hospital Wing. That's when I started talking to Madam Pomfrey about healing, and she was always quite encouraging. She even gave me a couple of books to read."

"So you train in St. Mungo's after graduating Hogwarts, and end up in Romania how?"

He shrugged. "It wasn't going to be a permanent thing at first, not really. I wanted to do some research on healing properties of this plant, leopard's bane, which is different from wolf's bane, mind you, and there really isn't any in Britain, so I just applied for some positions as a healer abroad and ended up in Romania. I found I liked it, so I stayed."

"Huh. I never thought about moving away from England."

"There's a whole world out there. I think sometimes people don't realize that, especially people who just graduated from Hogwarts. The other schools you know, like Durmstrang and Beauxbatons are more international so people don't just assume there's one country where everyone has to live. I always thought about talking to Dumbledore about that, but I never got the chance before, well, before…"

"Before he died."

"Yes, before he died. And before England went to war again."

"Well who knows? Maybe I'll end up abroad somewhere doing Merlin knows what."

"Do you have any idea of what you want to do?"

She grimaced. "Not really. I thought about a lot of things, including Quidditch, but nothing really stuck with me. It didn't help that I spent a good chunk of my seventh year in the hospital. I had different priorities then."

Sean chewed his food thoughtfully, looking somewhere over her right shoulder. She waited for him to respond, but he didn't.

"Don't suppose you have any job openings where you work?" she asked sarcastically.

"Well, you're not a trained, but there are different paths to becoming a healer, especially once you get out of England where there's really only the St. Mungo's program. I have colleagues who've taken on apprentices in special circumstances. How were your grades?"

She gaped at him. "You're not serious."

"Why not? If your grades are what they need to be, then I would see no reason why you couldn't apply for a spot."

"My grades are…sufficient for healing, I'm pretty sure."

"You have your N.E. ?"

"Seven of them. Core classes plus Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy."

He smiled at her. "Well there you go."

She fiddled with her remaining food. The idea was ludicrous. She was talking with Oliver Wood's brother, a man she'd never met before an hour ago because Oliver had been attacked and somehow she was the one sitting by Oliver's bedside even though they had barely spoken over the past year, and his brother was effectively offering her a job as a healer trainee in Romania, a job she had never considered in a country she'd never visited before. And all of this less than two months removed from the Battle of Hogwarts where she and everyone else had lost so many friends.

"I'd have to think on it," she finally said.

"Of course. I don't even know if we have a slot available, and I've already arranged to take the next few weeks off work so I can spend time with my family. If we have a spot, and if you want to take it, I would make sure you went back with me so I could orient you properly, show you around the place, maybe even use you as my own apprentice."

"You do realize you're being incredibly generous to a girl you've known for less than an hour, who explicitly told you she didn't even know what she wanted to do."

Sean swallowed the last bite of his food and sipped from his glass of water. "I know that I'm offering a potential trainee spot—which is no guarantee of you passing any exams—to a girl who spent the past two days looking after my brother when I couldn't. We may not have agreed on much, but Oliver always spoke highly of you as a person, and you've done nothing so far to make me doubt his words."

She blushed slightly. "You're not what I expected from Oliver's brother."

"Yet here I am," he said magnanimously. "Speaking of which, I'd like to get back to Mungo's, meet up with my parents and talk to some of the Healers there."

She hurriedly chewed on her last chunk of noodles. "I'll head over with you."

"No, you won't."

She glared at him. "Of course I will. Don't be ridiculous."

Sean motioned for the check. "It's not ridiculous to send someone home who spent the night sleeping in one of those hospital chairs. You need to shower and sleep and talk to your friends. Tomorrow you can come in again if you want to."

She thought momentarily about fighting his words, but in truth the prospect of her own bed (well, the guest bed at Angelina and Alicia's flat) enticed her. She could already feel the warmth it would offer the soft caress of an actual pillow and mattress as opposed to the hard wooden chair she'd slept in the previous night. She sighed.

"Fine. I'll be back tomorrow for sure, though."

The waiter brought over the check, and Sean carefully counted out the change from his wallet. After he finished, he led her outside of the restaurant and into a back alley a block away, one he assured her he'd used for apparition frequently in the past.

Before she disapparated, she looked him squarely in the eye. "Thank you for dinner."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Thank you for letting me make you take care of yourself."

She shook her head, grinning slightly. "I'll see you tomorrow."

The last thing she saw before she disapparated was Sean's calm expression cracking slightly as he watched her go. She realize then how much effort he must have expended keeping her calm, suppressing his own anxiety. Too late to say anything.

When she appeared abruptly with a sharp crack in front of the door to Alicia's and Angelina's flat, she heard the sounds of a heated argument from inside. She recognized Angelina's voice instantly, and then she heard George.

So much for her sleep.


	2. Old Friends, New Stories

The scene was tense when she walked into the flat after quickly muttering the password and tapping her wand on the door. Alicia and Lee stood off the side while Angelina and George were behind the couch, Angelina apparently doing her best to ruin George's remaining ear judging by the volume of her voice. Katie quickly caught Alicia's eye when she stepped in, and Alicia shook her head minutely.

"Don't interfere," she mouthed wordlessly.

Katie nodded, and managed to catch the latter half of what Angelina was screaming.

"…just because YOU don't care about yourself anymore, that does not mean that nobody else does. Two weeks we don't hear a word from you, not a letter, not a note, and then I have to hear from Lee who heard from someone in Ireland that you were arrested for picking a fight in a muggle bar and you didn't call anyone to try to bail you out. Were you planning on rotting away in jail? WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?"

Katie shifted a few steps to the right and gasped. A row of stitches marred his temple and another one trailed across his cheek while one of his eyes had nearly swollen shut. Some fight indeed, and a muggle doctor, not a healer, had clearly treated those particular wounds.

"I was thinking," said George in a low, menacing voice, "that what I do with my life is none of your fucking business. I don't even see why you care, anyways."

"How could I not care? George, you're my friend!"

"I'm your ex-boyfriend's twin brother. Whatever you had with him doesn't make me your responsibility."

"Fred has nothing to do with me caring about you."

"Fred has everything to do with everything."

Even beneath the stitches and black eye, Katie could witness the depth of despair displayed in George's expression. His eyes were hollow, his face seemingly aged well beyond his twenty years of life.

Angelina closed her eyes for a moment. Katie thought for a moment she might have seen a tear leak out from the corner of Angelina's eye. When she responded, she spoke in a much softer yet no less emotional voice.

"If you don't think I know…If you think that I only care about you because of what Fred and I had back when we were in school three years ago, then you don't know me and you don't have any respect for me. " Clear, visible tears now fell across her cheeks. "But I don't care. Alicia and Lee are here as well, and neither of them were ever involved with Fred, so if you feel more comfortable talking to them, so be it."

George didn't respond. He stared at the ground, studiously ignoring Angelina's distraught words.

"Fine," said Angelina, clearly steeling herself against George's refusal to hear her. "Fine. You don't have to talk to me, or even look at me." She spat out those last few words with a vehemence that caused Katie to flinch. "But I will keep hauling your sorry ass back here, even if I never get a word of thanks from you. Because I care about you, George. And I cared about Fred too, but he won't be why I do it."

In an effort to avoid Angelina's gaze once more, George looked towards the door and his eyes widened. Neither he nor Angelina had previously noticed her entrance.

"Lovely to see you, Katie," he said sardonically.

The bitter tone in his words stung. "Hi George," she returned.

Angelina startled at hearing Katie's voice, but after her initial surprise, her shoulders slumped. She appeared defeated.

"There's no need to take it out on her, George. She didn't have anything to do with us hauling you out of jail."

"I would have if I hadn't been somewhere else, though," said Katie. "Me and Lee and Alicia and Angelina, we're not going to let you kill yourself."

"What's one more?" sniped George.

Angelina opened her mouth, but Katie cut her off. "Don't you fucking _dare_ , George Weasley. Do you know where I've been? Huh?"

George shook his head, taken aback at the venom in Katie's voice. Katie strode across the room to so she was standing next to the couch, only a few feet away from George's face. He looked even worse up close.

"I've been at St. Mungo's waiting to hear if Oliver Wood was going to survive the next few days. Remember him, our captain, our friend? Angelina and Alicia were there with me before Lee told them they had to go fetch you from whatever stupid sitaution you'd gotten yourself into."

George looked genuinely surprised at the news. Clearly the news about Oliver hadn't made its way into the conversation yet.

Katie continued: "He was attacked. By Death Eaters, or by some wannabe ones trying for one last go at someone. What better person than a personal friend of Harry Potter and a well-known Quidditch star, right?"

George croaked softly, "I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't. You can't know anything if you're not talking to your friends." Katie almost felt guilty about the genuine pain that flashed across George's face, so she relented somewhat. "He's going to live, in case you were wondering. Still not clear if he's going to be playing Quidditch again or if he'll even be able to walk properly, but he's not going to die." She looked him square in the eye. "Neither are you."

George wilted slightly, but all of his previous resolution filled his next words. "Like I said, Katie, you don't get to say what I do with my life."

Without even acknowledging Angelina, George strode around the couch and past Katie to the door. She held out a hand to block him but he pushed her aside with a forced that seemed to surprise both of them. Stumbling and trying to catch her balance, she didn't even see him walk out, only heard the door slam behind him.

The noise echoed throughout the flat. None of the remaining people in the room moved. Finally, Lee muttered, "I'm going after him. I know where he might be headed."

After giving a quick hug to Alicia and a pat on the shoulder to Angelina and Katie, he too left the exited the room. Angelina sat on the edge of the couch, her face in her hands. Alicia was carefully edging her way over to her friend, slowly placing a comforting hand on her back. Katie heard sniffles escaping from Angelina, despite her friend's best efforts to contain them.

"What an asshole," said Katie.

"He's just hurting," sniffed Angelina.

"That doesn't give him the right to take it out on you," said Alicia pointedly.

"I know, I know. I just need to try something, anything really, if it will help him."

"We want to help too," offered Katie. "You're not alone."

"Thanks," said Angelina. She breathed in deeply several times in an effort to regain control of herself. "Any more news about Oliver, Katie?"

"He's still sleeping, which isn't too surprising. I did meet his brother, Sean, and we had a good talk."

"I forgot he had a brother," Alicia mused. "Is he anything like Oliver?"

Katie laughed a little. "In a few ways, but they're actually pretty different. Sean's a healer, lives in Romania, isn't quite as prone to long diatribes on the finer points of quaffle passing."

Angelina giggled a little despite herself. "It's a miracle he managed to stay on Puddlemere. I would've chucked him out years ago."

"Some people I know are just as bad as he is." Alicia played for the Tutshill Tornadoes, so she spoke with some authority. "There's a certain mindset among some of the players."

"Thank Merlin you're not like that," huffed out Angelina.

"Only because I have friends like you to keep me grounded." She looked thoughtful. "I'm also not touched in the head quite like he is."

Katie joined Angelina in a small bout of laughter and allowed a small wave of relief to wash over her. These were her friends. Even if George couldn't deal with Fred and Oliver was hurt, she still had Alicia and Angelina.

When their laughter faded, an unexpected yawn overtook Katie and she felt herself drooping.

"You should get some sleep," Alicia told her. "I know you can't have slept well in the hospital last night."

"I might just do that," said Katie as another yawn overwhelmed her. "Feel free to wake me up if anything happens."

"I'm letting Lee handle things for now," said Angelina darkly. "He doesn't want to see me anyways."

Katie wrapped Angelina in a tight hug. "He's not thinking clearly right now. He'll come around eventually, I'm sure. Until then, don't let him get to you too much."

Angelina just hugged her harder. When at last Katie pulled away, Angelina had regained some composure. Satisfied that Alicia could handle anything Angelina needed, Katie slipped into the guestroom. She quickly undressed, threw on a nightshirt and collapsed back into bed. Within minutes, she was fast asleep.

The next morning found her sitting in Oliver's room in St. Mungo's yet again. Alicia was at practice with the Tornadoes, and Angelina had reluctantly shuffled off to Auror training after a brief yet serious firechat with Lee. Apparently George didn't seem like he was going to try to hurt himself or anyone else at the moment, but he promised to keep them all updated. Sean and Oliver's parents had left for an early lunch after she arrived, assured that someone would be there should Oliver regain consciousness. Without anyone to keep her company, she flipped through the pages of an old _Quidditch Weekly_ absentmindedly, mind still half focused on the events of last night.

"Katie?" came a muffled voice from the bed.

"Oliver?" She immediately sat up, fully alert, and looked down at Oliver. "Oliver, are you awake?"

"If this is dying, then I don't think it should hurt so much." His eyes were closed and his face set in a grimace. He looked more terrible awake than he had asleep.

"Let me get someone, a healer, I don't know. I can't believe you're awake. I'll just—

A weak grip on her wrist stopped her. She looked down, fully looked at him and saw a faint smile beneath the grimace.

"You're here."

"Of course I'm here," she said.

"No of course about it. Haven't seen you in so long."

She felt confused. "I saw you at Hogwarts just a few weeks ago, at the memorial."

"Wasn't paying attention to you then," he mumbled.

"That's different. We were all in mourning. We all lost so much." She paused. "I thought I was going to lose you too."

"I don't…remember much." He swallowed back a wince and placed both his hands on his temple. "It's all so blurry."

He opened his eyes at long last and suddenly the world felt clear, so far from blurry she nearly cried. Such a simple thing, him seeing her, her seeing him. She took one of his hands away from his head, held it in her own, squeezed it.

"I'm getting a healer. You're still far from alright."

Whipping out her wand, she muttered, "Expecto Patronum." A silver stream shot out from her wand, coalescing into the shape of small kestrel. "Get healer Mayweather. Tell her Oliver Wood is awake."

The shining patronus whipped out of the room, silver smoke trailing from its wings as it flew. She watched it a moment before turning back to Oliver. He was regarding her cautiously.

"That's some good magic, Katie. Never saw you cast a patronus before."

"Dumbledore's army gave me some practice. So did last year when I was on the run for a while."

His breath hitched. "You could have come to me."

She laughed sarcastically. "You're right, I should have lain low by meeting up with one of Puddlemere's rising stars, a man who features in the tabloids the moment he's seen out with any woman under the age of thirty five."

Oliver didn't respond. His eyes were closed again, and she noticed how carefully he controlled his breathing, how even he couldn't halt the occasional flinches flashing across his face. She knew he possessed a high pain threshold (higher than hers certainly, if his tolerance for grueling Quidditch practices was any indicator), but she couldn't imagine anyone suffering through his injuries stoically.

"Can I help?" she asked quietly.

"Just talk. Distract me."

"Okay then. Um…" she fumbled for words for a moment before recovering. "I met your brother, Sean. I actually forgot you had a brother until he showed up and he even knew who I was, so thanks for that, Oliver. I looked like a real ass." He didn't respond, just continued to breathe. "He's much more charming than you could ever be. Smart, too, a healer and all, so it's no wonder you didn't want to talk about him. Didn't want to tell us we were getting the lesser of the two Wood brothers. Thought maybe we'd harp on you even more than we already did. You made it so easy, though, with your insane practices and—

"Quidditch," he breathed. "Quidditch, Katie."

She blanched. "Shit."

His eyes were open again, but he directed his gaze towards the ceiling. "Did the healers say anything about Quidditch?"

She couldn't lie. "Yes, they did."

He huffed out a frustrated sound. "And?"

"They don't know. It's too soon to tell."

He slammed his fist into the bed with all of his strength. The effort almost immediately cost him, and he gasped, sucking in air desperately through clenched teeth. His complexion was nearly as pale as it had been when he'd first been brought in. She squeezed his hand again.

"Oliver, listen to me. They don't know, which means they don't know. You could still play, you don't know if you can or can't." She lowered her voice. "It doesn't matter right now. Healer Mayweather will be here soon, you just have to hold on."

"Doesn't matter?" he growled, peering at her through a slit in his eyelids. "Of course it bloody matters! Of course it—fuck!" He clenched his fist, clearly fighting back his discomfort.

"Shut up, Ollie. Just shut up for once in your damn life and think about something other than Quidditch. Think about your own life!"

At that moment, Healer Mayweather briskly marched into the room, saving Katie from hearing whatever Oliver could say in response. A thin, middle-aged women with decidedly stately developing gray streaks in her hair, Mayweather wasted little time on formalities or pleasantries when a patient of hers was in pain. Katie retreated to one side as she approached.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Wood?"

"Stellar," he snapped.

"I know you're in some pain, but believe me when I saw that honesty will serve you well in your situation. Let's try again." She peered down at him from the edge of the bed where she now stood. "On a scale of one to ten with one being barely noticeable to ten being unbearable, how would you rate your pain level?"

He sighed and sank further into the bed. The sheets and pillows seemed to swallow him up, drown him in their mass. "Seven, maybe eight."

"Hmm," she said, more to her herself than either of them. With a quick flick of her wand, she opened the doors to one of the cabinets attached to the back wall. Another flick and a small vial filled with a pale lavender-colored liquid floated smoothly into her outstretched hand. "Do you think you can sit up enough to swallow this?"

Oliver gulped. "Maybe." After a couple of weak efforts and a visible increase in his frustration levels, Katie quietly yet efficiently held him up and rearranged the pillows beneath his back so that they offered more support. He muttered a quiet thanks to her before gratefully accepting the vial and draining it in one gulp. The potion acted quickly, and Katie noted with relief that the pain lines around his face softened after less than a minute. Whatever was in the vial was effective.

"Now Mr. Wood, do you think you're ready for a quick conversation about your condition? The potion will cause drowsiness, and you're already going to be feeling exhausted from your injuries so the conversation will have to be quick if we want you to be awake for its entire duration."

"Sure," he said weakly. "I just need to know about Quidditch, if I can play again."

"We'll discuss," she said flatly, and Oliver sagged against the pillows. "Miss Bell, this will be a private conversation between—

"She can stay," said Oliver. Mayweather raised an eyebrow at him. He returned her gaze with more confidence than a man lying gravely wounded in bed ought to have been able to muster.

"Very well, Mr. Wood." She paused a moment, clearly gathering her composure for her explanation. "In truth, Quidditch lay rather near the bottom of my list of priorities when you were first brought in. Your life itself was in danger, and I deemed saving it more important than your Quidditch career. Miss Bell here actually argued quite forcefully for treatments that would allow you to keep your leg, even if there was a higher risk of further damage to the rest of your body."

Oliver's hand found Katie's and he gave it a light squeeze of thanks. He still looked peaked and far too pale beneath the sheet, and the news regarding his leg had not improved his color.

"If you do return to Quidditch, it will only be after considerable therapy and a healthy dose of luck. The combination of curses which hit you made it…difficult to treat some of your wounds, and we are still encountering some unexpected obstacles in our healing. Some of the muscle restoratives reacted badly with the spells needed to halt the bleeding and tissue damage, but we are still hopeful that we can find a combination that will not induce any unfortunate side effects."

Oliver didn't say a word. Instead, Katie recognized again the even breathing pattern as a sign of his attempts to control himself. This time, he fought emotion, despair, rather than physical pain. Unbelievably, this actually felt worse.

"I've already discussed more specifics with Sean; he was quite anxious to know the details."

"Sean? Oliver's brother? You know him?"

"I assisted in some of the teaching during his time as a trainee healer here. He was an excellent student then, and I was pleased to hear about his work in Bucharest."

"That's great and all, but can you tell me anything more? My chances?"

A flicker of sympathy crossed Mayweather's expression momentarily before she returned to her stoic expression. "We will continue to work hard on your case, Mr. Wood, but it may be several weeks or months into your rehabilitation and treatments before we better understand your limitations."

"Weeks? Months?" he gulped. "That long?"

"Your injuries were quite severe. The potion has helped with the pain for now, but you recall how you felt before. You're still a long way from healthy."

Oliver appeared as dejected as she'd ever witnessed him, even more hopeless than he'd been after their loss to Hufflepuff in her fourth year, the one with the dementors. The sight was infuriating.

"Is this your best bedside manner? All bad news with no reassurance?" she asked harshly.

"It is the truth, Miss Bell," Mayweather returned coldly. "I believe in honesty with my patients. It helps in setting realistic expectations, avoiding false hope."

"But there's still a chance he could make a full recovery."

"Yes, there is, though I cannot speak as to how great the odds are."

"That's enough."

Both women looked down at Oliver. He appeared utterly exhausted, and Katie understood that more conversation about his condition wouldn't help the healing process, either emotionally or physically. Mayweather seemed to agree because she relented and addressed him directly in a softer tone.

"We'll have plenty of time to discuss this later. Rest is best for now, I think."

Oliver nodded, eyelids already drooping and head lolling to one side on the pillow.

"I'll stay with him at least until his family comes back," said Katie.

"You know how to reach me should anything arise," said Mayweather, and Katie nodded. The older woman straightened her shoulders and began to exit the room. As she left, she stopped in the doorway and looked back at Katie with a curious expression.

"Were you in the Order, Miss Bell?"

She shook her head. "Not directly no, but several close friends of mine were. Why do you ask?"

"Your patronus, it—well it talked. I only ever witnessed members of the Order perform such magic."

"I learned it from my friend who was a member." She smiled to herself. "He was adamant I know how to protect myself."

"Good friend, I suppose," said Mayweather thoughtfully.

"He was," said Katie shortly.

Mayweather picked up on her use of the past tense immediately. "I'm sorry for your loss, then, Miss Bell."

Katie nodded but didn't respond verbally. Mayweather made a quick exit, leaving Katie alone with a sleeping Oliver once more. He still held her hand in one of his own, and it appeared he'd simply fallen asleep without giving it a second thought. She stroked her thumb across the back of his hand almost unconsciously.

"What type of bird?" Not fully asleep then.

"What?" she echoed, confused.

"What type of bird is your patronus?" He was slurring his words slightly, clearly dredging up hidden reserves of energy in order to maintain even this level of consciousness.

"Oh, it's uh, it's a kestrel, I'm pretty sure. Kind of like a falcon."

"Hmm," was all he offered in response. She continued the stroking motion, finding it soothing for herself as well as for him. He slowly drifted into sleep, and she couldn't help but notice that he looked more peaceful than she'd ever truly seen him before. If only such peace didn't need to come at the behest of a powerful pain relieving potion.

She pulled out her wand again and closed her eyes, envisioning a happy thought. The last time she cast her patronus, she'd been riding on the thrill of seeing Oliver awake and had barely needed to spare a thought to her happy memory. Normally she used Gryffindor's victory in the final match against Slytherin her fourth year as her anchor, the sensation of pure, unadulterated joy, uninhibited by war or grief just yet. The next year Cedric had died and the world never contained quite the same untainted simplicity and pleasure. She began recalling that day, the feel of the wind whipping against her body, the rush of adrenaline as she dove and weaved through the air, the faces of Angelina and Alicia as they rushed towards her, holding her close, Fred and George laughing in the background, Harry grinning so broadly his cheeks might split, Oliver crying…

"Expecto Patronum," she whispered, and only a thin wisp of silver emerged from her wand. "Expecto Patronum," she said again, this time waving her wand a little more forcefully.

She frowned at her wand. _Work_ , she thought, _just work for me here_. Another try, another failed attempt. Maybe if she tried to replicate what she'd thought before when she'd summoned Mayweather.

Unbidden, an image of Oliver's eyes, open despite the pain and the suffering he'd gone through, flashed in her mind. His voice, whispering _you're here_.

"Expect Patronum!"

This time, the little silver bird darted swiftly out of her wand. It flitted around the room before settling in the air not three in front of her.

"Find Sean," she told it. "Tell him Oliver woke up."

For the second time that day, she watched as her patronus flew gracefully out of the room, trailing silver mist behind it as it left. She wished she knew her purpose as well as her patronus did. For now, though, helping Oliver would suffice.

"You will get better," she spoke to his sleeping form. "You will fly again, and you'll play Quidditch and you'll be Oliver Wood. That's all you need to do."

He slept on.


	3. Witch Weekly and Wizard Sense

Sean and Oliver's parents returned within fifteen minutes of her patronus message. Much like his sons, Mr. Wood was a burly figure, clearly a strong athlete in his youth, and his sharp eyes keenly observed the world around him. Mrs. Wood, though less stout than her husband, possessed a gleam in her eye which all Woods appeared to share. Her hair, a dark brown with encroaching gray, was pulled back in a loose bun, and Mr. Wood kept his also graying hair in a short crew cut. The two of them epitomized a non-nonsense attitude. Katie immediately felt she understood Oliver's the origins of some aspects of Wood's personality.

"I got your message," said Sean the moment they walked through the door. "He's awake?"

"He was awake," she clarified as she stood up to great them. "He only lasted about ten minutes. Some of the pain-relieving potions also cause drowsiness, apparently."

Both Mr. and Mrs. Wood frowned, and she almost regretted calling them over. Nothing had changed really. Oliver still slept, and Healer Mayweather had no new information to tell any of them.

"Did you talk to him?" Sean asked.

"Yeah, for a bit." She wasn't sure how to describe their conversation in a positive light, and yet she didn't want to upset them further. In the end, she opted for the truth. "He was in some pain, and he asked about his chances at playing Quidditch again."

"What did you tell him?" inquired Mr. Wood somewhat tersely.

"Healer Mayweather was here, and she told him the truth. We don't know for sure."

"How did he take that," asked Sean hesitantly?

"Not well," she admitted. "The only upside to the pain and the potions is that he couldn't fully focus on the situation at hand."

"Hardly an upside," interjected Mrs. Wood harshly.

"It means he has some more time to process, perhaps," said Sean quickly, trying to soothe his parents. He shot a quick smile at Katie. "Thank you for being here when he heard the news. It wouldn't have been good for him to be alone."

"Of course." _No of course about it_ , echoed Oliver's words in her head. "I was just happy to see him awake."

"Well, you've seen him now. I think we can take it from here," said Mr. Wood.

Katie stepped back. She hadn't actually met Oliver's parents before—Sean had been the one to ask her to stay with Oliver while they went to lunch—but she hadn't been expecting such a cold reaction.

"I'm sorry, did I do something wrong?" she asked them.

"Nothing wrong, but I don't see why you need to stay now that we're here."

"I'm his friend!"

"A school friend, one he hadn't mentioned in years," replied Mrs. Wood coolly. The last part in particular stung.

"Well, not while I was on the run last year, no, but Oliver's been my friend since I joined the Quidditch team my second year at Hogwarts."

Mrs. Wood continued to regard her skeptically. Katie felt entirely befuddled. Shouldn't Oliver's parents have been grateful someone had stayed with their son when they weren't here? She hadn't expected gushing praise, but she also hadn't expected their accusatory tones.

"Mum, Da," said Sean in a strained voice, "Katie isn't a part of the press and she's not some gold digger looking for money. She's a friend of Ollie's, and all she's done so far is sit by his side. Florence even told me Katie argued pretty adamantly for saving Oliver's leg when they wanted to amputate it at first."

"Did you really?" Mr. Wood's tone was still incredulous, but a little less severe.

"Yes," said Katie defensively. They thought she was a gold digger, or a member of the press trying to get a scoop on Puddlemere's keeper? Of all the responses she'd imagined, this one had never crossed her mind. "Look, Oliver is a friend from school. We're not dating or romantically involved in any way, and I don't have a job at all at the moment, much less one with a gossip rag that reports on these sorts of things."

"If you say so," said Mrs. Wood.

"I say so too," added Sean. "I talked with her yesterday at length, and I trust her." Both his mum and dad harrumphed slightly, but didn't continue with their attacks.

"Katie," Sean addressed her, "I hope you can forgive my parents. In the past, there have been a couple of girls who had…dubious intentions when it came to my brother."

"I promise you, my intentions are pure. I only wanted to help."

"I know," he assured her. He glanced over at his parents. "It might be best if you leave us for a bit. We all need to process the situation."

"I understand that." She offered Sean a small smile. "If you need someone here while you get dinner later on, please let me know."

"If we need someone, you'll be the first one we call," Sean said.

"All right. I guess I'm leaving then," she shrugged, raising her eyebrows at Oliver's family.

Mr. and Mrs. Wood had already turned away from her and were now taking their place in the chairs by Oliver's bed. Sean shot her one last apologetic look before joining them, pulling up a third creaky wooden chair that dragged across the ground with a shriek. Thoroughly nonplussed she walked out of the room, took a right, and immediately ran into Charlie Weasley.

At least, she believed it was Charlie Weasley. When she'd last seen him, he was a brilliant Quidditch captain in his seventh year and she was a scrawny girl only in her first. It had been nearly a decade since she'd last seen him, and both of them had changed quite dramatically. Katie, of course, was now a woman of nineteen, not an eleven year old girl, and Charlie—Charlie looked weathered. Never one of the leaner Weasleys even in his younger days, now Charlie appeared even brawnier with prominent tattoos across his biceps and an even more prominent burn mark across his forearm. Dozens of freckles coated his face and his arms, and a scar stretched down from temple to ear on the right side of his face.

"Excuse me," she muttered quickly after backing away.

"No, I'm sorry," he said in a deep voice. "I should have been paying closer attention."

"It's fine. Really." Funny how all these years later, she still felt like a small first year in front of him, seeking his approval during her first Quidditch tryout. As a muggleborn with almost no flying experience, she'd unsurprisingly botched the whole affair.

A brief flash of recognition lit up his face. "Do I know you?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

She flushed. "Probably not. I mean, I was in Gryffindor, played on the Quidditch team, but that was only after you graduated."

"So you know who I am," he guessed.

"Charlie Weasley, school-famous Quidditch captain my first year at Hogwarts." He looked startled. "Am I wrong?"

"I am Charlie Weasley, but I mostly assumed people would have forgotten about me."

"Not with the way Oliver talked about you."

"Oliver? Oliver Wood?" he asked disbelievingly.

She nodded. "He was my Quidditch captain my first three years on the team."

Unexpectedly, Charlie's face split into an enormous grin. "How was he as a Quidditch captain? I bet you hated him more than my team hated me."

"Oliver never hated you," she said.

He shook his head. "No, _he_ didn't, but only because I could never give him enough time on the pitch. That boy loved Quidditch more than anyone I've ever seen. Everyone else, well, sometimes they liked me, sometimes they didn't."

"A sort of love/hate relationship. That was always me and Oliver."

Charlie chuckled, then regarded her a little quizzically. "I still don't know who you are."

She clapped a hand over her mouth. "Shit, sorry. I'm Katie, Katie Bell, although there's no reason for that to mean anything to you."

His eyes narrowed. "It does sound familiar. Maybe one of my brothers mentioned you in a letter."

She gave him an awkward smile and promptly wanted to smack herself over the head. Despite having no reason for her reaction, she felt flustered.

Charlie's expression grew more serious as he looked her over again. When most boys scanned her head to toe the way Charlie was doing currently, their gaze violated her, sent shivers of discomfort or disgust over her skin. For some reason, his gaze didn't elicit the same reaction. His scrutiny struck her as purely clinical in nature. Finally, he asked her, "Were you visiting Oliver?"

"Oh, yes, I was. He's right in there, in case you're wondering," she said, gesturing to the doorway behind her.

"Was his brother there as well?"

"Sean? Yes, he was there too, along with his parents. Well, _their_ parents, I suppose, but that's neither here nor there, and I'm just…going to shut up now," she finished lamely.

"Nothing to worry about—I appreciate the information. Now, if you don't mind," he moved closer towards her in an attempt to pass by. She abruptly realized her position effectively blocked all passage to and from Oliver's room.

"Shit, sorry again," she muttered as she jumped back.

He passed another amused glance over her. "It was nice to meet you, Katie."

As he went into the room, she hastily replied, "Nice to meet you too, Charlie, I guess." She hurriedly bolted down the hall, far away from her awkward encounter, cursing herself. Charlie appeared far more down-to-earth than she'd ever imagined, and yet she had acted like an idiot in front of a man who only wanted to visit his…friend? Were Charlie and Oliver friends? Why else would he visit him?

Puzzling over this particular question, she skipped down the flights of stairs onto the ground floor and walked briskly out of St. Mungos into a hallway where she could disapparate back to Angelina and Alicia's flat.

Once back in the flat, she shrugged off her clothes and hopped in the shower. While she'd taken a brief shower late last night, she deserved a much longer one. She missed the prefect's bathroom from Hogwarts with its extensive soap collection and magical bubbles. After many long Quidditch practices, she'd often enjoyed a long soak away from the rest of the team and the rest of her housemates. This particular shower could not measure up to quite the same standards, so after fifteen minutes of standing beneath the spray, she left, pruney and warm but still missing the Hogwarts bath.

Once she'd dried and redressed herself, she stood in the middle of the flat, gazing about the empty living room. Alicia would be home first, as her practices began as punishingly early hours of the day, and Angelina would likely arrive later, although her auror trainee schedule was often unpredictable. Unlike both of them, Katie had no job and no responsibilities. A moment's consideration later, and she decided to try her hand at cooking.

One hour later, and Katie regretted her decision. While even Snape had grudgingly praised her potion-making skills as "remarkable for her age," potion-brewing did not translate to cooking the way she'd hoped. In fairness, she'd been working with whatever she could find in the refrigerator and apparently neither Angelina nor Alicia cooked very often, judging by the state of their rather sparse spice cabinet. She'd attempted a chicken casserole with onions, cheese and several other types of vegetables, but she'd singed the top and some of the onions tasted decidedly undercooked. Her friends would eat it nonetheless, especially Alicia who always returned from practice ready to eat a hippogriff.

The rest of the day still stretched before her, long, languid and empty. She read one her old copies of _Potioneer's Monthly_ , thumbed through an even older copy of _The Daily Prophet_ , and finally landed on an issue of _Quidditch Weekly_ from several months ago. She flipped through the pages carelessly until a familiar face popped out from the pages. She turned to the opening page of the feature and what she saw caused her stomach to sink: OLIVER WOOD: PUDDLEMERE'S RISING STAR. At least now she knew why Oliver's mum might be concerned with the press. She began to read:

 _Lily, one of our own up and coming reporters, sat down with Oliver Wood, a man who's made himself invaluable to the team these past few years. Despite current events, Wood manages to keep a positive attitude and maintain his focus. We talked with him just last week about how he manages to do it._

 _L: Thanks for meeting with me, Mr. Wood._

 _W: Please, call me Oliver._

 _L: If you insist._

 _W: I do, and it's really my pleasure to be sitting here with you. From the age of six, I can recall reading issues of Quidditch Weekly, and I always remember looking at the profiles of people like Robert Torr, Sylvia Pladdershot and Igor Malchik. It never occurred to me that I might one day be the subject of a profile._

 _L: Well, I'm happy I'm the one who can make this dream come true. Let's begin with something easy: How do you feel about Puddlemere's prospects this season?_

 _W: I feel very confident about our chances. We had a bit of a rough season last year, mostly due to the loss of a couple of our players, but this year we've rebuilt and I think we've got an excellent chance at the title this year._

 _L: I'm glad to hear it. You mentioned rebuilding your team during the off-season. Who among the new faces do you think is going to play a big role in the games to come?_

 _W: Well, I'm reluctant to single out members of my team in any context as I truly believe that the worth of the team far outweighs the worth of any one individual player, but I am especially excited to see Kira Hapley join as a chaser. She handles the quaffle beautifully, and it's a pleasure to watch her fly._

 _L: She, of course, just came from the Tutshill Tornadoes, one of Puddlemere's rival teams and fiercest competitors from last year. Any worries she'll forget who she's supposed to be passing the quaffle to?_

 _W: (laughs). Not a chance. She's very professional, really on top of her game. Despite the rivalry between our teams, I always enjoy playing the Tornadoes. One of my former teammates from Hogwarts, Alicia Spinnet, plays for the Tornadoes, and I relish the chance to play with her, even though we're now on opposing teams._

 _L: Does your connection make you better equipped to defend against her?_

 _W: Well, I know her playing style well from our time at school, but she knows mine too. We've both matured as players, and our coaches always have new plays available that neither of us are familiar with. I'd say it just makes it a more enjoyable matchup, not necessarily an easier one._

 _L: How do you keep personal feelings off the pitch? Is that ever a struggle?_

 _W: Not really. I see what I do on and off the pitch as separate. If I held a grudge against every beater who'd chucked a bludger at me, I'd be a very unhappy man. Similarly, I can't see my actions on the pitch as affecting my relationships with any friends, so long as we all maintain sportsmanlike conduct._

 _L: How do you maintain your concentration throughout the game? Do you have any particular pregame rituals?_

 _W: I just look over my playbooks. I have a set of playbooks going all the way back to my school days where I've written down every play I've ever run, whether or not I created it or someone else has. I always remember something new, and I know I need to be reminded of how far I've come, how far I need to go._

 _L: That sounds like a wonderful exercise. What else goes into the life of a Quidditch star? What's your daily routine?_

 _W: We have practice six days a week in the off season, and for five of those days we practice at least eight hours. During the regular season, we only practice less on game days, but it's still a grueling schedule. I always get up at sunrise so that I have time to eat a good breakfast beforehand, and I try to be in bed early in the evening._

 _L: It doesn't sound like that leaves much time for life outside of Quidditch._

 _W: It can be hard, especially when other friends enjoy going to bars and parties until later in the evening and you know you need to leave early because you have to be up several hours before them. It's worth the sacrifice, though, and I wouldn't trade this life for anything else._

 _L: Do you have any room for a woman in your life?_

 _W: Like I said, it's hard, especially if she doesn't fully appreciate the demands of Quidditch, the weird hours._

 _L: Is that a no?_

 _W: (laughs). It is a no, but even it was a yes, I wouldn't be talking about it. After_ Witch Weekly _wrote an article about me visiting a friend in the hospital about a year back and gave away several identifying factors, I try to keep my private life to myself. I don't need anything distracting me from my Quidditch game._ _I signed up for the League, but no one else in my life did._

 _L: Thank you for your time, Oliver. It's been a real pleasure._

 _W: Thank you, Lily. I look forward to reading the issue._

Katie set down the magazine, stunned. She assumed Oliver was referring to her in the article, the one he visited in the hospital. She had no memory of any _Witch Weekly_ article mentioning her, but she remembered nothing from the first month following the curse. None of her friends had mentioned the article—and she knew Leanne read _Witch Weekly_ in secret—but perhaps by the time she'd been coherent, it had faded to a distant memory in everyone's mind. More importantly, if Oliver was referring to her, he had likely visited her at least once when she was still unconscious. The thought comforted her in some strange way. Perhaps she wasn't acting unusually by spending so much time visiting Oliver during his own stay in St. Mungo's.

She flipped back to the first page of the article where a headshot of Oliver grinning awkwardly lay front and center in the middle of the text. Normally in these types of profiles, players attempted to either appear intense and threatening or sweet and charming, the latter especially more popular among female players. She'd seen Oliver smile many times over the years, and his awkward smile, one which bespoke of a dash of disbelief and awe at his good fortune, prompted a little laugh. Oliver never knew how to pretend, how to put on an act. It pleased her to see he hadn't changed that aspect of his personality.

The idea of a _Witch Weekly_ article discussing her nagged at the back of her mind even after she's read through the rest of the magazine. Glancing at her watch, she noted the time—three in the afternoon—she decided to pay a visit to Leanne. Of all of her friends, Leanne would know if such an article existed. Leanne herself worked as reporter now, though not for _Witch Weekly_ fortunately. She wrote articles for the music section of _Wizard Sense_ , a weekly magazine which actually published the long-form articles Leanne enjoyed writing. Her job also afforded her flexible hours, and Katie knew she wouldn't mind a visit to the office.

After a brief look in the mirror and a quick hair comb, she apparated to the lobby of the building which housed, among other businesses, _Wizard Sense_. She showed her apparition license as a form of ID to the security guard and ascended the stairs to the third floor. It was a rather interior with off-white walls and gray cubicles filling up most of the floorspace. When she arrived at Leanne's desk, she found only an empty chair. Just her luck.

"Can I help you?"

Katie whipped around to face man approximately in his mid-twenties with brown skin, dark eyes and nearly pitch black hair. He wore glasses which lay crookedly across his nose and a t-shirt emblazoned with the Weird Sisters logo. Likely another music writer, she determined.

"I'm looking for Leanne. This is her desk right? She hasn't moved?"

"Oh, no, she's still there. She's just in a meeting I think, but should be done soon. Can I do anything in the meantime?"

She shook her head. "Unless you're a fan of _Witch Weekly'_ s from a couple years ago, you probably can't."

A slow smile drew up the corner of the man's mouth. "Are you saying Leanne reads _Witch Weekly_? Because I'm pretty sure she's denied doing so several times since I've known her."

"In that case," Katie said, "I didn't say anything."

"Of course you didn't. And I won't use this little tidbit to mock her the next time she disses The Jumping Ghouls."

"The who?"

He sighed. "A somewhat obscure Welsh band from the 1970s. Not many people have heard of them, but Leanne has and she thinks they're terrible."

"Leanne has her fair share of questionable music tastes, I assure you."

The smile on his face broke out into a full beam and he held out his hand for her to shake. "I'm Amit, by the way. I think we should talk."

"Don't trust him, Katie," echoed a familiar voice from across the room.

"You don't even know what I'm saying to her," protested Amit.

Leanne appeared in her field of vision, smirking at Amit. "I know the gist of it, which is more than enough for me. Now skedaddle. I'm assuming you're here to talk to me and not this philistine."

"I am here for you, Leanne, but I don't want to offend anyone."

Leaned rolled her eyes. "He can take it. Right, Amit?"

"Right," he said, and, looking directly at Katie, he winked. "Lovely to meet you, stranger," he quipped and sauntered away from the two of them.

"I apologize for him," said Leanne after Amit was out of sight. "He thinks he's quite the charmer."

"No worries. I could use some light-hearted, innocuous chatting today."

Leanne sat down heavily in her rolling chair and eyed Katie sympathetically. "Rough day?"

"Rough couple of days actually."

"I've got time," said Leanne. "Tell me what's happening."

So Katie related the full story of the past few days, from the moment Alicia burst through the door into the flat, dragging Angelina behind her and telling her they needed to get to St. Mungo's immediately to her terrible encounter with George last night and her discovery of Oliver's _Quidditch Weekly_ profile today.

"Merlin's beard, Katie. That's a hell of a lot all at once, isn't it?"

"You're telling me."

Leanne leaned back in her chair, obviously trying to figure out what to say in response. Eventually, she asked, "So is there a reason we're doing this right now and not over drinks in McClellans later on this evening?"

"There is actually." Katie paused, summoning the courage to ask the next question. "Do you remember an article about Oliver Wood that mentioned me? It would have been in _Witch Weekly_ a couple of years ago, back when I was first in the hospital."

Leanne scowled. "Yeah, I do. That stupid little column about how Oliver Wood was visiting a girl somewhat frequently in the hospital, so it must be some sign of romance, right? Pretty pointless. What about it?"

"I didn't know it existed. I didn't even know he'd visited me when I was unconscious."

Leanne seemed surprised. "I assumed he'd told you once you were awake. He was there quite a bit the first few weeks, and he kept me updated on your condition since I couldn't leave Hogwarts. Angelina and Alicia were around a lot as well, but Oliver was the one who owled me most often."

Katie scrunched up her face in confusion. "He only visited me twice after I woke up, and he never mentioned the article."

"Maybe he didn't want to upset you? That doesn't explain why he stopped visiting so much, unless it was because of the article." Leanne twisted her long brown hair around her fingers, a sign of uncertainty Katie recognized after years of friendship.

"Maybe," said Katie.

Leanne shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Look, Katie, I know I said I have time, but I think we should continue whatever this conversation is after I'm done for the day. You up for drinks?"

"Sure. We can even invite Amit," said Katie in an innocent voice.

Leanne glared at her. "It's your funeral. And by that, I mean it will be your funeral because I will hack off your head myself if you try something like that."

"Is he that bad?" asked Katie disbelievingly.

Leanne sighed, softening her expression. "No, he's not. He just needs to get over his love for these trashy, obscure bands from twenty-five years ago. There's a reason they were obscure."

"I'm sure I won't know what you two are discussing either way."

Leanne stood up and pulled her into a long hug. "I'll see you tonight at nine, usual place," she said.

"Sounds good."

When Katie returned to flat, she entered without knocking or even thinking, which is why the sight before her came as such a surprise; Alicia was shirtless, and so was someone else, and they were both making out on the couch. This would have startled Katie, but what truly shocked her was that the shirtless stranger had breasts. She was a woman. Alicia was kissing another woman.

Couldn't she escape the surprises for just one day?


	4. Revelations and Reflections

"Oh my God."

After spending nearly half of her life in the Wizarding world, Katie normally used "Merlin" instead of "God," but something about seeing one of her best friends half naked on a couch making out with another woman just brought her back to her muggle upbringing. Oh my God indeed.

Alicia shrieked and pulled away from the other woman so rapidly she nearly lost her balance. Then she saw who had actually walked in on them and swore under her breath.

"Katie, I'm so sorry, I just…shit." Alicia found one of the pillows lying on the floor next to the couch and quickly pulled it across her chest, trying to cover herself. The other woman did the same, although oddly enough, she didn't appear quite as mortified as Alicia given that a complete stranger had just walked in on them. In fact, she seemed almost pleased.

"You must be Katie," she said, extending out her hand and walking towards Katie, who still stood frozen in the doorway. "I'm Kira."

The half-naked woman in front of her was quite attractive, and had Katie been inclined towards the same gender, she might have appreciate the view. Long, curly, strawberry-blonde hair hung in soft waves around her face, and a dusting of freckles covered her nose. Even though she tried not to look, Katie also noticed an impressive set of abs on this her. Clearly, she was in good shape. Another Quidditch player perhaps?

"I'm Katie, yes," Katie said, stiffly shaking Kira's hand. Kira's smile faded a little.

"I guess this is a bit of a surprise to you," Kira said, laughing weakly in an unsuccessful attempt to diffuse the tension.

"You could say that," said Katie cautiously.

Alicia still hadn't uttered a word since the initial outburst. Kira, now frowning, shuffled awkwardly from side to side. Katie cleared her throat.

Finally, Alicia broke the tension in the room. "Kira, maybe you should head out now? I need to explain some things to Katie, and it's probably best if you're not here."

Kira's frown grew. "If that's what you want." She grabbed her bra and shirt from the coffee table in front of the couch, and after quickly dressing herself, pressed a gentle kiss to Alicia's cheek. Alicia, who was still covering herself with a pillow, didn't react. Kira huffed out a sad laugh. "See you soon, babe." Nodding at Katie, she left the flat and closed the door with a slam. Alicia winced.

"Do you want to get dressed before we talk?" asked Katie.

Alicia nodded, so Katie turned around while Alicia gathered her clothing. She'd seen Alicia change hundreds of times in the locker room at school, but this situation felt different and she wanted to give her privacy.

"You can turn around now," said Alicia in a soft voice.

Katie turned and saw Alicia was fully clothed and sitting on the far left side of the couch, so she joined her, sitting on the far right, leaving some space in between. She'd been living here for weeks, but she'd never noticed just how distracting the subtle floral pattern on the couch cover could be. Idly, she traced one of the blue lilies with her finger.

"Are you going to say anything?"

Katie regarded her cautiously. "I was waiting for you to explain."

"I don't know how much there is to explain."

Katie sputtered, "There's a lot to explain! For starters, how long has this been going on?"

Alicia considered her answer carefully before she spoke, mulling over each word. "Officially, just for a few months, but a couple things happened about a year ago."

"So it's been happening for a while."

"A few months isn't that long, I think," Alicia said, albeit without any semblance confidence.

"But you've known you've liked her for a year. You've known you fancy women for at least a year."

"Sort of? Ugh," Alicia moaned, burying her head in her hands. "It was so confusing at first, and I didn't really know what to do with it, so I just didn't say anything."

"Start from the beginning then. First of all, who is she? Is she the only one?"

"She's the only one," assured Alicia. "As for how it began, we met at my tryouts last year. She was already playing for the Tornadoes, and before I was even on the team, she invited me out for drinks. She told me it was tradition for current players to take out some of their best prospects, so I said sure, thinking it would be the whole team there and some of the other prospects. But it was just me."

"Is this Kira Hapley? Is that her last name?"

"Do you know her? I didn't know you were current on the League Players." Now it was Alicia's turn to be confused.

"I just saw her name mentioned in an article in _Quidditch Weekly_ , and it said she used to play for the Tornadoes. There probably aren't many Kiras who've played on the Tornadoes."

Alicia chuckled nervously, "No, she's the only one. She doesn't play with us anymore, which is how this whole thing really started." She cleared her throat. "So, we were at a bar, just talking, and well, she's so wonderful, Katie. She really made me feel special. When we left the bar, she came with me, and I thought she was just making sure I got back safely since I was a little too tipsy to apparate on my own, and this is when people were vanishing left and right all over England. So I didn't think anything of it, but when we got back, she just pushed me against the wall and kissed me, right in the hallway. Angelina was gone, doing something with Lee or Fred and George, so I invited her in, and she spent the night."

"Wow. First time, and you go all the way."

Alicia blushed furiously. "I didn't know what I was doing. It just felt…so good, better than anything ever did a guy. I didn't know I could feel that way."

A little piece of Katie's confusion melted in the face of Alicia's complete, utter joy. She'd never seen Alicia so giddy, so obviously infatuated. It still didn't answer all of her questions, however, not by a long shot.

"But you didn't officially get together until a few months ago?"

"Well, we actually went on a second date, and that was also lovely, but then I got on the team, and it turns out Coach Harrigan has a strict no intra-team dating policy. Kira was happy to sneak around, but I'd just made it and this was my first year as a professional player, so I didn't want to risk it. I told her we couldn't do anything while we were still on the team, and she understood. She didn't try anything again, except for New Year's Eve when she'd had a little too much firewhiskey. I thought I was safe."

"And then she went to Puddlemere."

Alicia nodded. "The night she signed with Puddlemere, she invited me over to her place. She lives with Sara Fortescue who plays for the Cannons, but that night it was just her. I came in and she was holding up her new Puddlemere uniform and smiling. She asked me, 'What do you think?' I said I was happy for her. And then she asked me if I remembered our dates from earlier on in the year, and I did, so I said yes. And then she said, 'How about a third?'"

Alicia's face reflected such a turmoil of emotions it pained Katie look at her. Her expression was hopeful and fearful, infatuated and uncertain, so very Alicia.

"I assume you said yes."

"How could I not?" she said, eyes pleading with Katie for understanding. "I said yes, but I told her I still wanted to keep our relationship on the down low. She wasn't thrilled about that part, but I told her I wasn't ready to say anything to other people yet."

A sudden thought struck Katie. "Does Angelina know?" Alicia shook her head. "Does anyone know?" Again, a head shake. "I'm the first one?"

"I guess so. Kira's told some people she's seeing someone, but she's never specified who. So you're the first."

Katie sat back against the couch, trying to wrap her head around such an unexpected turn of events. Alicia had dated guys at Hogwarts, including one relationship with Xavier Potella that had lasted nearly seven months after he asked her to the Yule Ball. The Yule Ball…that reminded her of—

"You're going with Lee to the League Premier Gala in two weeks, aren't you?"

Alicia nodded, her expression now somewhat guilty.

"Alicia, does Lee know you're just going as friends? Did you specify the friendship part?"

Alicia gulped. "I never really specified anything, just asked him if he wanted to go to the gala with me. He seemed excited."

"Yeah, because he thinks it's a date. Lee's fancied you for ages. You know that right?"

"I kind of knew it, I suppose, but we've always been such good friends."

"And now you've asked him to one of the biggest social events of the year as your date. Are you planning on ditching him for Kira once you arrive, or are you going to pretend that you and she are just good friends throughout the entire night?" Katie's tone might have come off harsher than she'd anticipated, but Alicia needed to face these questions sooner rather than later.

"I hadn't really…thought that far," she said meekly.

Katie groaned in exasperation. "Alicia, you know I love you, and you know that I think you're brilliant. That being said, this is probably one of the stupidest decisions you've ever made, and if you go through with it as it, you're going to hurt either Lee or Kira—probably both, for that matter—and you're definitely going to hurt yourself."

"I can't just uninvited Lee, now can I? How unbelievably rude would that be?" protested Alicia.

"Make up some excuse then! Tell Lee…I don't know…tell him you don't want to been out in public with a guy because you're paranoid about the press, or tell him that I _desperately_ wanted to go this year, and you just can't say no to one of your friends. Or you could tell him the truth. That's your call."

"If I tell Lee, I have to tell Angelina too. I have to tell other friends too."

"Would that be such a bad thing?"

"Yes! Maybe! I don't know. It's so confusing, Katie."

"From where I'm sitting, it doesn't actually look that confusing. You fancy women, you especially fancy Kira, and she makes you happy. How is that so complicated?"

"It's complicated because it's my life, and this…this changes everything."

Katie grabbed Alicia's arms with both hands and she stared directly at her. She noticed for the first time how bright Alicia's eyes were. Please don't cry, she begged internally.

"You're still a Quidditch player, right?"

Alicia mumbled a quick, "Yes."

"You're still a Quidditch player. You still have all of your friends, including me, including Angelina. None of that changes just because the person you're sleeping with is named Kira instead of Kyle."

"You're sure?" asked Alicia, sniffling slightly

"I've never been surer of anything in my life."

Alicia pulled Katie into a tight, slightly wet hug, but Katie didn't mind the tears. Of all of the problems in her friend's lives, Alicia's felt the most reassuringly normal. Sure, she'd never expected Alicia would agonize over a girl instead of a boy, but ultimately everyone faced some romantic drama in their lives. Compared to Oliver, compared to George and Angelina, she'd take Alicia's worries in a heartbeat. Alicia was strong. She would do the right thing.

"So you're going to tell Lee," confirmed Katie.

Alicia looked hesitantly at Katie. "I know that it's going to be fine when I do tell everyone, but would you be okay if I went with one of those excuses you came up with earlier? Maybe the one where you really want to go and I'm being a good friend?"

Katie sighed, but ultimately she was reluctant to force Alicia to broach the issue before she felt ready. "As long as Lee's not thinking it's a date, it's your choice."

"You'll have a great time too. I mean, everyone from the League is there, but so are lots of other really famous people—

"—and me. I'll make a wonderful addition to this star-studded guest list. Sit me down next to Kingsley Shacklebolt so he can say, 'Pardon me, but who are you?'"

"You're my friend. That's important enough."

"That's sweet, Alicia."

"It's true." She had stopped crying at this point, and her eyes contained the familiar sparkle Katie recognized so well in her friend.

"You're too nice for your own good. When I see Kira next, I'm going to have to give her the talk."

"The talk?"

"You know, the whole, 'If you break my friend's heart, I'll hunt you down and make you suffer for it' speech. Someone's got to do it."

Alicia giggled. "No offense, Katie, but she's pretty tough. I doubt you'd be able take her on in a fight."

"You wound me. I may not have abs like hers, but I bet I'd beat her in a duel any day of the week."

"You always were the best of us at school," Alicia said warmly.

"Yeah, whatever," Katie replied, brushing aside the compliment. "Do you want dinner, by the way? I made a casserole earlier on, and it just needs to be heated up."

"Actually, I was going to find Kira, talk things over with her. I reacted badly when you walked in on us, and I'm guessing she's going to be a little upset with me." Alicia grimaced

"Whatever you need. This casserole isn't going anywhere, so if you decide you want it later, it'll be there."

"Thanks, Katie. Thank you for everything." Alicia wrapped her one last firm hug before getting up from the couch and leaving the flat. A sharp crack from outside told Katie that Alicia had successfully disapparated. Once again, Katie sat on the couch, gazing at the empty flat. She really needed a job. _The Daily Prophet_ usually contained some listings, so she picked up the most recent issue from the coffee table and located the employment section in the back of the paper.

She'd read through a dozen listings when a strange patronus swept through the room. At first she couldn't make out its form, but as soon as it came to a rest, hovering in the air above her, she recognized the shape. A kingfisher. She guessed its caster before it even spoke.

"My parents and I are leaving for dinner in ten minutes, and you are welcome to come to St. Mungo's if you have the time," echoed Sean's voice around the room. Message delivered, the stately bird dipped its head and vanished in a cloud of silver.

"About time," she muttered to herself. If she timed her arrival well, she would miss Oliver's parents. An encounter with them held about the same appeal as an encounter with a raging manticore. She took five minutes to freshen herself up before deciding that she had wasted sufficient time. After leaving a quick note mentioning the casserole to Angelina on the kitchen counter, Katie apparated over to St. Mungo's.

When she arrived outside Oliver's room, she breathed a sigh of relief. Neither of Oliver's parents still remained in the room, meaning she could enter without fear. Several seconds passed before she registered the presence of another person sitting in the corner, reading a thick, leather-bound book intently. The broad shoulders and shock of bright red hair gave away his identity immediately.

"Hello again, Charlie."

Charlie snapped the book shut quickly and looked up in surprise. Once he recognized her, he assumed a more relaxed posture. "Hello, Katie. Sean mentioned you might be coming by."

"He didn't mention that you would still be here."

"Is that going to be a problem for you?" asked Charlie with a glint in his eye.

"No, of course not. I just rather thought you'd be out eating dinner with the Woods, is all."

Charlie scowled. "I never miss an opportunity to avoid extended encounters with Mr. and Mrs. Wood. How two of the most unpleasant people on the planet managed to produce well-adjusted children is beyond me."

"I'm glad it's not just me they hate."

"It's not. Believe me, they've known me for years and I've only managed to get Purvis to crack a smile once."

Katie guffawed a little. "Is Purvis Mr. Wood's name?"

Charlie chuckled. "Only when they're not around. I'd never call him that to his face."

"It definitely explains a lot. If my name was Purvis, I'd probably be a stick in the mud too."

Charlie dragged his chair over to the bed where Oliver still lay sleeping. Katie took up occupancy in the one settled towards Oliver's feet. A cursory examination of her former captain revealed little difference from his appearance before, although his skin color might have progressed from inferi-gray to a plain, pasty white.

Charlie read her mind. "No change, although he was awake for about fifteen minutes mid-afternoon. The pain-potion usually lasts for at least four hours or so, so I'm guessing we won't hear from him for another hour or so."

"As long as he wakes up before the whole family comes back. I'd like to be able to talk to him without them hawking over my shoulder the entire time."

"Sean said they were especially rude to you this morning. I'd like to blame it on the stress of the whole situation, but it's honestly hard to say with two of them. Merlin knows they don't need a reason."

Katie laughed, feeling more at ease knowing she hadn't done anything to offend them in particular. Still, even as she relaxed back into the chair, something about Charlie's words nagged at the back of her mind.

"You said you've known them for years. Did you meet them through Oliver?"

"Oh no, I first met them when they visited Sean his first year in Romania. Sean thought it would be nice for me to meet the parents. Little did he know what torture he'd just forced me to endure. That night I sat through two hours of the worst conversation I've ever…"

As Katie studied Charlie, watched him talking about Oliver and Sean's family with casual familiarity, an epiphany struck her, the thought dawning in her head before she'd even realized it existed.

"Charlie, I don't mean to be forward or obtuse, because maybe this is something I should have picked up on earlier, but are you and Sean…together? I mean, yesterday I asked him why he stayed in Romania, and he said something about a leopard plant, but quite frankly, you make much more sense than some plant as a reason for staying."

She'd cut him off mid-story, so he required a moment to recover himself. She regretted her outburst immediately. What right did she have to ask a question like that? Sean's personal life was just that, personal. As for Charlie, she'd only talked to Charlie him for five minutes over the last eight years, so she had even less of a right to his private life.

Charlie looked quizzically over her. "You know, I do think I remember you from Quidditch tryouts. You were just a tiny little thing and still pretty rough on a broomstick, but I admired your tenacity. Not many first year muggleborns try out for the Quidditch team after only a couple flying lessons." He looked thoughtful. "I could already tell you'd be a smart player once you wrapped your head around the strategy. It's nice to see my predictions pan out."

"Does that mean I'm right?" asked Katie, who now felt more confused than before.

"For all intents and purposes, yes, you are right."

She frowned. "That isn't a straight answer. What do you mean, for all intents and purposes?"

Charlie heaved a sigh. "It means that while I certainly enjoyed Oliver as a teammate at Hogwarts, I'm not here for him. I'm here for Sean. In every sense that matters at the moment, we are…together, I suppose."

Still a little unsure of how to interpret Charlie's cryptic response, she broached another topic she'd meant to discuss with him earlier.

"Are you back in England for George as well?"

"As much as he'll let me, which at the moment isn't very much. Why? Is there anything I should know? Are you two friends?"

"Yes to the last question, and to the first question as well, I think. I have no idea if you've heard, but he was arrested in Dublin two days ago after starting a fight and getting the shit kicked out of him. He was being held in a muggle jail cell, refusing to talk to anyone. Angelina, Alicia and Lee all went there to bail him out yesterday, to bring him back home. He was saying some pretty dark stuff, like how it didn't matter if he killed himself, because 'what's one more?'"

Charlie's ears turned pink, something she recognized as a warning sign after spending years around other members of the Weasley clan. He clenched his fists, and all of the muscles in his arms tightened as well.

"Does anyone else know?" he forced out through gritted teeth.

"Maybe? I don't know who Lee told. He might have talked to someone in your family."

Charlie stood up, brimming with barely contained emotion. "Excuse me, Katie. I need to go find my brother. Maybe he'll listen to me even if he won't listen to mum and dad."

"I hope so," said Katie, and in truth she was glad he was leaving. The raw emotion he exuded combined with his considerable physical presence frightened her, especially because it contradicted his normally more composed presence. She made a mental note to avoid ever angering Charlie Weasley.

Charlie swept out of the room, leaving just her alone in the room with Oliver. She wished she'd brought something to read, as she'd completely exhausted the available magazines in strewn on the bedside table. With nothing else to do, she began talking to him.

"Hey Oliver. Me again. Sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have mentioned Quidditch so soon, but honestly, I'm surprised the first words out of your mouth weren't, 'Can I still play?' You've gotten soft since you graduated, I see. The old Oliver Wood definitely wouldn't have been distracted like that."

Oliver didn't respond. She didn't expect him too, but she had hoped that perhaps he'd wake up again, provide her with someone to talk to about everything that had happened over the past few days. He featured heavily in those events, and she wanted to discuss her Leanne's revelation with him.

"Who am I kidding, thought? The 'old Oliver Wood,' like you're some completely different person. I mean, maybe you changed a lot last year. I wouldn't know. That's partially my fault, and I should have tried harder to keep in touch, but it's difficult to contact people when you're on the run and when your life is in danger every second of every day. It's hard to think beyond that. I think I'm still not completely out of the habit. Angelina and Alicia wanted to remove some of the anti-apparition wards on their flat, but I asked them not to for as long as I'm staying with them. I know there's no real danger, not anymore, but it still makes me feel safer. After what happened to you, I'm especially glad I didn't relent."

She reached down, grabbed his hand. Thick callouses covered much of it, born from years of gripping broomsticks, but there was still softness underneath.

"Why didn't you tell me you were here so much my first month in St. Mungo's? Did you think I would be upset? I would have loved to know you cared enough to come by even when I was asleep. I remember you visiting after I woke up. All you did was ramble on about this new play your coach had the chasers doing, how you didn't approve. I didn't bother trying to stop you, even though I probably stopped paying attention about three minutes in. Maybe that's why you only came twice—you thought you'd bored me to sleep. If I did fall asleep, it was probably just because of all the potions they had me drinking, not because of what you were saying."

She let out a half-hearted laugh.

"You know, in all the years I've known you, I don't think we've ever talked about how our days are. Granted your days are mostly Quidditch, so technically whenever you talk about it you are discussing your life, but that profile of you? When you mentioned reading the playbook before matches? I didn't know that about you. There's a lot you don't know about me, which isn't too surprising. I remember in fourth year right, before we played Hufflepuff, you asked me if my family would be coming to the game, and I had to remind you that the rest of my family are muggles. They couldn't come even if they wanted to. I know you know I'm muggleborn, especially after the whole Chamber of Secrets fiasco, but my God, you don't make it easy, do you?"

She looked down at him sadly. "It's not getting any easier. I thought maybe life would be simpler after the war, but in some ways it's much more complicated. Now that people aren't afraid they're going to die any day, they can focus on other things. Like relationships, careers, everything that seemed less important with You-Know-Who around. Leanne's doing fine, but Angelina and Alicia, not so much. Sometimes I forget for a second that I can't just owl Fred, visit the shop and just talk with him. He's not even the only one. Did you know Sammy Hawthorne? Juliet Frigg? Dennis Murphy? They all died last year, all of them friends of mine. They're all muggleborn, and so their parents don't fully understand what happened, and I can hardly explain it to them because sometimes I don't understand what happened. How can a country just go mad?"

She let go of his hand, placing it gently back on the mattress, and fell silent. Who knew talking to Oliver Wood could be cathartic? He just had to be unconscious for the conversation to happen. She picked up the _Quidditch Weekly_ , intending to read through it yet again, when she noticed that Charlie had left behind his book. The title read _The Discovery of Dragons: Dragons in Muggle Myth and Folklore_. She opened it to page one.

 _No other beast appears in muggle myth and folklore as often and in as many forms as the Dragon. Nearly every culture across every time contains some reference to dragons, even if the references are occasionally obscured. Well before muggles and wizards separated their worlds, muggles knew just as much about the nature of dragons as any wizard, and…_

As she read, she forgot for a moment that the rest of the world existed. For several blissful minutes, only she and the text, she and these mythical dragons mattered. She knew it couldn't last, but for now, she'd cling to it with every fiber of her being. She'd take dragons over Lord Voldemort any day.


	5. The Future Unfolds

By the time Sean and his parents returned from dinner, Katie had read through chapter two, _A History of Classification_ , and Oliver had yet to awaken. Sean assessed the room rapidly, noting the absence of a second person and the book Katie held in her hands, and a concerned look overcame him.

"Where's Charlie? Is everything all right?" he asked sharply.

"I mentioned something about George, and he pretty much stormed out of here. My guess is he's either with George or trying his best to locate him."

"George? What did you tell him?"

She glanced over at the other two Woods in the room and shot a meaningful glance at the door. They were Oliver's parents and deserved to be at Oliver's bedside more than she did, but damned if she would let them interfere in the lives of any other friends. Sean picked up on the gesture and turned to his parents.

"I'll just be outside for a moment," he told them.

Purvis's intense, disapproving scowl followed her as she left the room, but she ignored them. Her earlier exchange with Charlie had bolstered her confidence and her disdain for them.

Once standing out in the hallway, out of earshot of anyone still in the room, she wasted no time in explaining the situation to him:

"Yesterday after I left, I went back to Angelina and Alicia's flat where I'm staying, and both George and Lee were already there in the middle of a pretty explosive argument."

"Lee is George's friend?" clarified Sean quickly.

"Oh, yes, he is. He's a friend of all of ours really, but he was probably the closest friend the twins had other than each other, so he's being dealing with the fallout. Anyways, apparently when Lee had contacted Angelina and Alicia earlier on, he'd done so because George was arrested in Dublin for picking a fight in a muggle bar two days ago. George didn't bother contacting anyone, so no one knew where he was until a contact of Lee's in Ireland came through with the information. Apparently George had refused to pay bail, refused any sort of contact, and Lee thinks he was planning on just sitting there for as long as he could get away with it. Lee and the girls spent the better part of yesterday arranging for him to be released and then dragging him back to England. By the time I arrived, George was already back in the flat, and he and Angelina were having a go at it, mostly her telling him to take responsibility for himself and him trying to be as much of an asshole as he could manage. He's not in a good place, and that's pretty much what I told Charlie."

Sean nodded grimly. "And Charlie's trying to find George now."

"That's what he told me."

Sean swore suddenly under his breath, surprising Katie. Up until now, Sean had more or less maintained his composure throughout the whole situation.

"If you want, I could try to contact Lee. He has the best chance at knowing where George is, which is probably your best shot at finding Charlie."

"If you wouldn't mind," said Sean.

"I need to ask Angelina about where to find Lee, so I'll just head back to the flat and see if she's there. If not, I'll try the Ministry."

"Actually, it might just be simpler if I accompany you. That way you don't have to apparate back here after you find Angelina."

"Sure," I shrugged. "I'll take you sidealong to the flat since you don't know where it is."

After Sean ducked back inside Oliver's room to inform his parents that he needed to leave, the two of them made their way swiftly out of St. Mungo's, at which point Katie apparated them both back to the flat.

Fortunately, Angelina's training had ended at a somewhat reasonable hour. When Katie walked in, she heard the sounds of pots clacking in the kitchen accompanying Angelina's rather atrocious attempt at a Hungry Hippogriff's song.

"Angelina? That you?"

"What? Katie?" shouted back Angelina from the kitchen.

"Yeah, can you come out here for a sec?"

Angelina emerged from the kitchen and immediately did a double take. She glanced from Sean to Katie and Katie to Sean, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Wood?" she guessed. "There's no way you're not related to him."

"Angelina, this is Sean, Oliver's brother. Sean, this is Angelina."

Ever the gentleman even while in a hurry, Sean offered his hand to shake. "Pleasure to meet you, Angelina."

"So this one already has more manners than Oliver. Good to know," she said sardonically.

Normally Katie would have spent at least five or so minutes on small talk, inquiring about Angelina's day, but she sensed Sean's anxiety and his need for information. She didn't waste any more time on formalities.

"Angelina, do you know where Lee is?"

Angelina frowned. "If I had to guess, I'd say at his place. Why? Is something wrong?"

Katie acted quickly to reassure her. No need for a repeat of the previous night. "Nothing's wrong. Sean's just trying to find Charlie, and Charlie went to find George, so I thought maybe Lee would know where George is at the moment."

Angelina's expression morphed into a mixture of fury and sadness at the comment about George's name. Katie felt bad for even mentioning him and reminding Angelina of the yesterday's argument, but not bad enough for her to avoid the topic altogether. They couldn't avoid mentioning him forever.

She sighed heavily. "When I talked with Lee this morning, George was at the flat above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, but he was going to drop by and check on him later to make sure he was still there. I can firechat with Lee, see if he's still home. If not, we can try George's."

Angelina knelt by the fireplace, started a small fire with her wand, and tossed a handful of green floo powder into the flames. She stuck her face into the fire, and Katie heard, as if from underwater, Angelina calling, "Jordan! Lee! Are you home?"

No response. Angelina began to pull away when suddenly she stopped and leaned back in. When Angelina wasn't shouting, Katie couldn't make out the warbled noises coming from the firechat, but clearly she had found Lee. They talked for several minutes while Katie awkwardly shuffled from side to side and Sean stood stiffly next to her.

At last Angelina fully pulled away from the fire, which changed rapidly from emerald green to bright orange in color. Angelina's expression was grim.

"Lee's there, and so is George. Lee did check in on him, and apparently George decided it would be a grand idea to finish up the remaining firewhiskey in the cupboard, so Lee dragged him back to his place to make sure he didn't hurt himself. Charlie's there too, talking with George at the moment," she added, looking at Sean.

"Do you want to go there?" Katie asked Angelina.

Angelina closed her eyes for several seconds. When she opened them, her voice fell flat. "I don't know if I want to, but I feel as if I need to."

"If you're going, I'm coming too," said Katie. Neither Sean nor Charlie really knew Angelina, and even Lee couldn't read her as well as Katie could. If there was any danger of George lashing out like he did before, Katie needed to be there to defend her friend.

"Well, that settles it. Should we floo over there?"

"I think that's best," said Angelina.

One by one, they flooed into Lee's flat. Katie went second, following Sean, and when she saw Lee, any hopes she had for a productive conversation were dashed. Simply put, Lee looked exhausted and worn to the bone. Katie hadn't paid as much attention to him last night, but she now she noticed prominent dark circles beneath his eyes and a distinct droop in his posture. Merlin knew dealing with George hadn't done wonders for him, especially since he too was grieving his own friend at the same time.

"No Alicia," he remarked, a hint of disappointment coloring his tone.

"She had to be somewhere else," said Katie quickly, trying to avoid the subject.

Sean saved her from that particular conversation. "Where's Charlie? Angelina said he was here."

Lee slumped even further. "He's over in the guest room, which is where I put George to sleep it all off. Fair warning, it's been a couple hours since I found him, but he's still quite drunk. It's not going to be pretty."

Katie was well familiar with the guest room. Lee had been an active member of the Order for some time along with Fred and George, and for several weeks she'd stayed there after Fred heard her cover as a muggle waitress had been blown. Lee hadn't often been there, as he'd spent most of his time either helping Fred and George or working on Potterwatch, but she'd come to know his flat quite well. She led both Sean and Angelina down a narrow hallway to the right of the kitchen and stopped outside the second door. She knocked firmly.

"Come in," came Charlie's voice from behind the door.

The three of them entered apprehensively, unsure of what they would find. George was sitting up at least, though she could feel his glare as he realized who they were. Charlie stood by the window, towering over him, arms crossed.

"Look, it's a party," said George, words slurring slightly.

"These are your friends, George," said Charlie sharply. "No need to be rude."

Sean quickly went to Charlie and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You're all right?"

"I'm fine," said Charlie pointedly. "It's not me we're worried about here." He looked at Sean again, and his expression softened. "Thanks for coming."

"You look familiar," spoke up George. "You look like Wood."

"This is Oliver's brother," Katie explained. "He's back in England because of what happened to Oliver."

"So what, you just brought him along for the ride?"

"He's here with me," interjected Charlie. "He's a friend, and he's not the topic of discussion right now."

So Charlie's family didn't know the extent of Sean and Charlie's relationship, surmised Katie. She found it slightly odd, but certainly not worth mentioning at this moment. Angelina, still standing next to her, tensed slightly.

"What is this, another well-meaning intervention?" said George sarcastically.

"You can't ignore your family, George," said Charlie. "I didn't know about this, and I'm betting no one else does either. Does mum have any idea what you're up to?"

"Mum doesn't know a thing."

"And how do you think that makes her feel?" roared Charlie. "We all lost a brother. She lost a son."

"And she's got five more of them."

"That's not how it works. Ginny's been writing to me, she's been worried sick about you. So has Bill, and he's also been worried about mum and dad. They haven't seen you in weeks, but they told me to just give you space."

"You should listen to their advice."

"If they could see you right now, they'd be saying exactly what I'm saying. We're family, George. It's our job to keep each other going, even when it's hard. Especially when it's hard."

George's face twisted. "If I went and saw mum, do you know what she'd see? She'd see Fred. Hell, it's what I see every time I look in the mirror. I see him and he's right there. I say something and no one responds. No one." He looked up at his brother. "I don't need any more reminders from anyone else."

Charlie looked defeated, and Katie sympathized. It was hard to feel angry in the face of George's grief when he reacted like this.

"I don't see Fred when I look at you," said Angelina quietly. "I've been friends with you for years. You think I can't tell you apart?" Everyone in the room turned to look at her.

"I'm happy for you then, Ange," said George. "Still doesn't change a thing.

Angelina stormed out of the room. Lee and Katie followed her, feeling it best to leave George with his brother for the moment. Back in the kitchen now, Angelina looked at Katie and said, "I shouldn't have come."

"You did what you needed to do, Ange," said Katie.

She seemed unconvinced. "I think I'm going to head back home now. It's clear I've done enough."

Neither Lee nor Katie stopped her as she lit a fire, grabbed a pinch of floo powder and disappeared into the fireplace.

Lee sat down in one of the kitchen chairs and sagged. Katie half expected him to fall asleep right then and there.

A sudden thought struck her. "Lee, can I help with anything?"

"Katie you're already doing more than enough with George—"

"I'm not talking about that. I know that you've got a full time job with the radio, but I'd wager George hasn't been doing a spectacular job managing the shop lately "

Lee heaved a sigh. "You're not wrong on either of those fronts. Ron was helping with the shop for a while, but he left to go to Australia with Hermione. Verity's picked up some of the slack, but it's way too much for one person. So I've been helping out. I used to manage some of their business when we were back in school, and I know all of their products better than anyone else besides George. It makes sense."

"Yeah, but you're already working long hours with the radio program, and you keep tabs on George, which is practically a full time occupation itself at the moment."

He cracked a weak smile. "When you put it that way, it does sound like a lot."

"So let me help. I don't have a job right now. I'm bored out of my mind, and even if I wanted to spend all day visiting Oliver in the hospital and watching him sleep, I can't because his terrible parents are there now glaring at me whenever I make an appearance."

Lee looked incredulously at her. "What would you even do?"

She shrugged. "I could work at the store maybe. I don't even know what you do in radio, but I could work there too."

Lee considered her words for several second before he suddenly perked up. "Actually, Katie, I do have an idea."

"Fire away."

"I don't know if you've actually read _The Daily Prophet_ over the past few days, but if you have, you might have noticed that no one's reported about the attack on Wood."

This piece of news surprised her. "Really?"

"Yeah. Not even a mention of it."

"That seems odd. I mean, Oliver's a Quidditch player, a celebrity. _Witch Weekly_ reports on what he wears when he goes to get groceries."

"It is odd, and it's also not an accident. I know for a fact there's a large scale investigation into the attack, one that's just beginning."

"I thought they caught everyone involved. Shouldn't it be open and shut?"

Lee shook his head. "They caught everyone who was there, but they've interrogated several of the attackers and at least one of them admitted to being a part of a larger organization. The Ministry has no idea how many other people are involved or even what their motive is, but they're trying to keep the whole attack secret until they know more. Hence, no reports."

"But you know about all of this."

Lee shot her an exasperated look. "Please, Katie, how do you think I managed to run Potterwatch? It wasn't without a fair number of backdoor information exchanges."

"Figures."

"The point is, I'm trying to run a story on it. Long-form, nothing trite like what the _Prophet_ will probably print once they're allowed to. This could be big, Katie. I mean, whoever these people are, they're not Lord Voldemort, but they've already proven themselves dangerous. Wood's a fairly good dueler from what I saw at the battle, and look what happened to him."

"It was five against one."

"So they're smarter. They work in large groups, always making sure to have the upper hand. It's significant either way."

"Okay. What would you have me do then, assuming you want me to work on this story?"

"For starters, you and Wood are already friends, so you could get his first-hand account of what happened."

Katie raised her eyebrows skeptically. "He already told me he barely remembers anything."

"He might remember something as he gets a bit less foggy. I'll bet he's be more willing to talk to a friend about what happened rather than a strange reporter."

Katie couldn't argue with the last part. Oliver was notably reticent when discussing anything beyond Quidditch with the press. Still, she pressed on. "What if he doesn't remember? What do I do then?"

"You be a reporter. You find people who know things, and you get them to share. Use some of Angelina's contacts with the aurors, and I know you helped out the Order on a few occasions, so ask people you've worked with. Hell, ask Harry Potter. You were on the same Quidditch team as him for what, six years?"

"Five and a half," she corrected softly.

"Whatever." Lee was on a roll now, and he stood up and began pacing around the kitchen. "I bet if you did some real digging, you could find some good information. Even if you don't," he flashed her a crooked grin, "it's something to do."

Katie mulled over Lee's offer. She'd never really considered being a reporter as a job—it didn't exactly play to her strengths in potions and transfiguration—but Lee was right; it was something to do. Plus, if what happened to Oliver wasn't a onetime affair, she wanted to know more. Lee had more faith in the willingness and ability of her contacts to talk, but it couldn't hurt to try. She could even ask Leanne, or maybe Amit, although Leanne at least was more entrenched in the music side. Speaking of Leanne…

"Shit," she muttered, glancing the clock on the wall. "I need to meet Leanne."

"What?" said Lee.

"Oh, sorry. I promised my friend we'd meet for drinks tonight."

"Don't let me stop you then."

"Sorry to duck out so quickly on you."

"Not a problem, Katie. You're not obligated to stay here by any means."

"I know, but still." She pulled him in for a quick hug, and he stiffened in surprise before relaxing. She and Lee had never exchanged too much physical contact before. In this situation, however, Katie determined that Lee's need for some sort of comfort outweighed any potential awkwardness. When she pulled away, she told him, "I'll do it, by the way."

"Really?" He looked truly happy for the first time in several days, and Katie immediately felt more confident in her decision. She nodded. "That's wonderful! I'll reach out to one of my assistants about getting you a desk, getting you a salary, all those sorts of logistics."

"Just don't stress yourself out too much about the whole affair. Angelina and Alicia haven't been charging me rent, although they might change their minds once I'm actually earning money."

"Thanks, Katie. For everything, really."

"It's me who should be thanking you," she said bashfully.

"We'll talk more tomorrow. Stop by my office in the morning, if you know where it is."

"I do. I'll see you then. If anything with George happens…" she said.

"I've got Charlie here for now. Go have fun."

McClellan's was a muggle bar, so she had to apparate to an abandoned warehouse about six blocks away. A fine mist hung in the air, clinging to everything it touched. By the time she reached the correct building a thin sheen of droplets coated her entire body. She welcomed the crowded warmth of the bar's interior.

"Over here, Katie!" Leanne's voice carried over the baseline noise of the room.

Katie found Leanne sitting in one of the booths off in the far corner, three drinks already on the table before her. Wait a second, she thought, three drinks?

"Nice to see you again, Katie," said another vaguely familiar voice. As she approached the table, she identified the voice as coming from Amit, Leanne's fellow journalist.

"What a lovely surprise," returned Katie, starting directly at Leanne. Leanne in turn rolled her eyes and mouthed, "Sorry."

Katie took a seat next to Leanne and across from Amit, who pushed one of the beers towards her. She took a quick swig.

"Amit was just telling me how, by some random coincidence, he ended up at this particular bar at this exact time," Leanne informed her.

"Hey," protested Amit. "When have I ever given you reason to doubt me?"

"How about last week when you tricked me into going to that Young Maid's concert?"

"You had a good time in the end—"

"Or the week before, with the jam and the coffee—"

"Not technically my fault—"

"The owl dropping fiasco not one month ago—"

"Okay, okay," said Amit. "There have been a few times."

Katie giggled a little despite herself. Amit gestured to her. "See, _she_ likes me," he said smugly.

"She's only met you twice. Hardly a resounding stamp of approval," said Leanne.

"It's fine with me, Leanne." Leanne harrumphed, but said nothing. Katie continued, "In fact, both of you might actually be of some use to me."

"Do tell," said Amit, leaning back and crossing his arms, obviously intrigued.

"Let me start off by saying that the information I'm sharing with you is strictly off the record for both you at the moment. I only heard it from Lee, and he mentioned going through a few back channels to get what little he does have."

"I like your friend, Leanne," said Amit.

"Shut up, Ami," fired back Leanne.

"As I was saying," said Katie, "I'm trusting that both of you can keep your mouths shut." They both nodded. "Great. So, long story short, I'm currently helping Lee with a piece he's doing about the attacks on Oliver."

"Oliver who?" asked Amit.

"Oliver Wood."

"The Puddlemere keeper? He was attacked? How has this _not_ been on the front page of _The Daily Prophet_?"

"Exactly," said Katie. "Lee told me the silence is deliberate because aurors suspect a larger organization is responsible for the attack, but they don't know how big this organization is or even what their goals are."

"So they want to avoid causing panic," deduced Leanne.

"I assume so. Lee wants to shed some light on the whole incident, thinks the public deserves to know if there is a potential threat."

"I see," said Amit. "So now you're talking to the two most experienced journalists you know, seeking sage counsel—"

"She doesn't even know you," interrupted Leanne.

"—and perhaps even access to some sources," continued Amit.

Katie nodded. Amit rested his chin on his hands thoughtfully.

"I can't speak for Amit," said Leanne, "but I write about music, so most of the people I meet concern themselves more with experimental guitar solos and the interplay of magic with music technology than they do with mysterious organizations. I suppose I do know a few who have connections to certain underground scenes. Even the most respectable of underground scenes contain a few shady characters. I'll reach out to them tomorrow."

"Thanks, Leanne."

Amit still appeared contemplative. He sipped at his beer, apparently oblivious to the two sets of eyes focused on him. Katie tapped her fingers impatiently on the table. When Amit did speak, he did so slowly, carefully.

"I'm like Leanne now, you know. I write mostly about music, visual art, the occasional performance piece." He tapped his chin, still musing to himself. "When I first started reporting, I thought I wanted to write on international relations. I spent the first five years of my career following prime ministers, presidents and their ilk until I figured out that in the wizarding world, the real power lies with people lower down the food chain, the ones who do the work of interacting with the rest of humanity."

"What are you saying?" asked Leanne.

"I'm saying I know some people who might be promising, and not just in England. Understand I can't guarantee anything, and I haven't spoken to a lot of them in a couple years since I switched over to arts writing. I'll still give it a shot."

It was far more than Katie expected him to say. "Thank you, Amit. Seriously, that would be wonderful."

He waved aside her gratitude. "Anything for a friend of Leanne's."

Leanne turned pink, a development Katie definitely noticed but made no mention of. Instead she cleared her throat loudly.

"We can focus on all of that tomorrow. It's been a long day, and I could use some distractions." Katie gestured to the nearest waiter for three more beers.

"Look no further," said Amit. "All I need to do is mention Young Maid's new record and—

"That piece of trash!" exclaimed Leanne. "Merlin, I know some interference is expected when you try to add charms to your mixer, but I for one can only listen to so much!"

Amit winked at her as Leanne rambled on and on about the failings of Young Maiden. Katie contented herself with enjoying her beer and letting Leanne's indignant rage wash over her like soft rain shower. Tonight she could enjoy new friends and old. Tomorrow, she had a job to do.

 **A/N: Next chapter the story should pick up a little bit in the timing department. I realized I'd spent five chapters on two days, and given that I intend for this story to take place over the time span of weeks and months, I kind of needed to hurry it along. I just wanted one last chapter of setup before that process began.**


	6. A Job To Do

When Katie returned back to Angelina and Alicia's flat late that night, neither of her friends were awake so she too went to bed almost immediately. Tomorrow, she intended to wake up early enough to see both of them before they left for their jobs. Tired and slightly tipsy after numerous rounds of drinks, she fell asleep easily.

In the end, she halfway succeeded. When she awoke the next morning, bleary-eyed and with a slight headache, Angelina was in the kitchen fixing herself a cup of coffee. Angelina took one look at her and passed the mug over to her. "You look like you need it more than me."

Katie didn't argue. "Late night. Leanne and I were at McClellans."

"Ah," said Angelina understandingly. "You don't need to be up this early do you?"

"Actually, I talked to Lee yesterday after you left, and he's got a project for me to work on. Something for his radio program."

"Really?" said Angelina in surprise. "I didn't know you were interested in radio."

"Normally I'm not. However, he wants me to investigate into the attack on Oliver. Did you know that not a single paper has reported on it so far?"

"Huh." Angelina grabbed another mug from the cupboard. "I hadn't noticed."

"Yeah, well Lee thinks the silence is deliberate. He says he has sources which tell him the Ministry, the aurors in particular, have a moratorium on any reports until they know more about the attackers."

"Didn't they catch the attackers?"

"Yeah, but apparently at least of them indicated he's a part of a larger organization. They don't know any more specifics than that."

Angelina said nothing, but Katie could tell she was carefully considering the information, processing it internally.

"Actually," continued Katie, "I was hoping maybe you could talk to some of the aurors you know about the incident."

Angelina frowned. "I'm only a trainee, and I just started two months ago. I highly doubt anyone will talk to me about anything that classified."

"I know it's a long shot, but maybe if you're discreet, listen in on some conversations—"

"Are you asking me to spy on my bosses?" Angelina asked incredulously.

"No, just keep an eye out."

Angelina thought on it for a while, sipping her coffee. "I can't promise you anything, but I will listen. No active spying, just ears open."

Katie hugged Angelina. "Thanks," she said.

"Whatever makes you happy. Now, I've got to get going or I'll be late."

After Angelina left, Katie hopped in the shower, put on a bit makeup, and put on one of her nicer dress shirts. No need to make a bad impression on the first day, even if she already knew Lee.

Lee's office was considerably smaller than the one at _Wizard Sense_. The broadcasting rooms where engineers and technicians worked was two floors up, but Lee maintained a smalls suite of rooms for himself and his staff, which now included Katie. Once she arrived, he introduced her to his producer, Moira, his two assistants, Layla and Tyrone, and to his head researcher, Risa. Risa was responsible for gathering and fact-checking all information relevant to whatever he said on air, and Lee told Katie that Risa would actually be the best person to turn to with questions. Lee himself, in addition to hosting a more casual mid-morning discussion show, occasionally developed larger broadcasts such as this one, and Risa was instrumental in crafting the script for their more serious pieces.

Katie took one look at Risa and felt apprehensive. While the other people she's met seemed to be at most in their late twenties, Risa, a dark-skinned woman, rather stout woman, was obviously much older, late thirties or even early forties by Katie's best estimate. The idea of performing the same job as a woman who'd likely been in the business for nearly two decades intimidated her. With some trepidation, Katie stepped into the office which Lee had assigned to her and which Risa already occupied. It wasn't a terribly large space, but it contained several desks and stacks of paper and quills in the back corner.

Risa looked up and offered a pleasant smile. "You must be Katie. Lee told me everything that you discussed last night."

"So you know that I'm not…a real reporter or anything. I've never done something like this before."

She set down her quill and removed her reading glasses. "Well, it's fortunate that a story like this is fairly open-ended, so there's no set format you need to follow, especially in gathering information."

"See, even with something as simple as approaching people, I'm not sure if there's a right way to do it. How do I get people to talk?"

Risa chuckled. "If there was one way to get people to talk, our jobs would be much easier. You should probably sit down for this, take some notes."

Katie pulled up a chair from one of the other desks and grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill.

"The trick is knowing when to press further and when to stop. You don't want to scare people away, but if you're not aggressive enough, they won't talk. Always make sure you meet in person whenever possible. People are more likely to say things when you're talking in person, and…"

It was a crash course in how to approach people, from strangers to friends. Once Risa finished her explanation, Katie set to work first brainstorming the names of anyone relevant, from friends to Order members to acquaintances she'd made during her stay at St. Mungo's. Composing the list consumed more time than she imagined it would, so it was nearly lunch by the time she began seriously writing letters to everyone on the list, starting with Order members. As Risa instructed, she tried to appear casual in her letters, presuming nothing but simply asking for a chance to meet to discuss an intriguing and urgent development. As she finished each letter, she immediately sent it to the intended recipient with one of the office owls, but by the end of the day, she had only completed a dozen letters. Risa assured her that with practice, the first contact would feel more natural.

The rest of the day was a quiet affair. Alicia had already cooked dinner by the time Katie returned home from work, and Angelina arrived half an hour after Katie. All three of them discussed their respective jobs, and for the first time since she'd moved in, Katie actually felt able to contribute the conversation. Katie explained her deal with Lee, and while she expressed happiness at Katie's opportunity, she also grew quiet whenever Lee's name was mentioned. Clearly she still needed to inform him of the change in plans for the Premiere Gala. After dinner, they all spent a relaxing evening in the living room, Angelina studying for her auror coursework, Alicia reading over her playbook, and Katie perusing the selection of newspapers she'd bought to scan for mentions of anything regarding the attack. Still nothing. Sooner or later, Puddlemere would need to release a statement explaining the absence of their keeper, but according to Alicia, they didn't play again until next week, meaning they could wait several more days at least.

The next days passed in a similar manner with Katie writing letters, except owls began visiting the office bearing responses. Several replies contained polite rejections—she hadn't really expected Dedalus Diggle, an old-school auror she'd assisted once last year, to talk about his work—but the majority of the people she'd written to had agreed to talk. She began scheduling meetings, and soon owls were flying in and out of the office with regularity. Risa observed these development approvingly, and when Lee dropped by, usually in the afternoons, Katie proudly reported on her progress. Lee also provided daily updates on George's well-being, and while he was still a shadow of his former self, he had actually visited his parents and appeared to be more stable than before.

On her fifth day of work, Katie received an unexpected letter. She recognized the handwriting as soon as she opened the letter, and she read began reading it with gusto.

 _Dear Katie,_

 _I apologize for the long time it's taken me to reach out to you, but this is the first day I've felt well enough to be up for polite conversation. The healers are still shoving approximately two dozen potions into me each and most of them just seem to put me to sleep, but at least a couple of them must be working because I only feel like I was run over by a hippogriff now, whereas before I could have sworn that a dragon had tackled me. It was the only logical explanation._

 _Sean told me about what you did, staying with me throughout the first couple days and even fighting with the healers to save my leg. I truly cannot thank you enough. While no one will give me a straight answer about my chances of returning to Quidditch, I know that without my leg, I would have no chance at all. For that, I am eternally in your debt._

 _I also feel need to apologize for the behavior of my parents. They've never been the friendliest, warmest people, but I think that fear exacerbated their rude behavior. It's not an excuse, only an explanation, but I hope you can forgive them. That being said, I'm now feeling well enough to kick them out if you come by. Sean can always distract them if need be._

 _I hope to see you soon._

 _With much gratitude,_

 _Oliver Wood_

Katie couldn't help the smile that blossomed across her face. Not only was he awake and alert, but he actually wanted to see her. This letter probably also represented the most sincere correspondence he'd ever sent her. Most of their previous exchanges had consisted of him describing Puddlemere in detail and her reassuring him that the Gryffindor Quidditch still carried on without him. This letter was different.

She glanced at the clock. She was due to meet Hestia Jones in half an hour, her first in-person talk. After the meeting, however, she could stop by St. Mungo's.

Bidding farewell to Risa, she made her way over to the Ministry of Magic using the visitor's entrance. Though not an auror like many others in the Order of Phoenix, Hestia still worked for the Ministry in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. In the fall, Katie had assisted Hestia several times in escorting muggle families of muggleborn witches and wizards to safety. On one of those occasions, a Death Eater ambushed them and forced them into a duel, one where Hestia later remarked Katie had displayed a good knack for dueling. Katie appreciated the sentiment, but later that night she'd stood in the shower under the spray of warm water in an attempt to control her shaking. She'd never really considered the auror job, but she confirmed that day she would never follow Angelina's footsteps.

Katie met Hestia in her private office, away from any prying ears or eyes. Hestia was a sharp-witted woman in her early thirties, and she'd risen quickly in the ranks of her department. The spacious office reflected her position.

"Katie," said Hestia warmly when she entered the room. "Have a seat. I hope you're doing well."

"Quite well, thank you."

"Your letter mentioned that you were now working for Lee Jordan. I didn't know you had an interest in journalism."

"Normally, I don't. However, circumstances being what they are, I was willing to make an exception."

"What circumstances? You alluded to a potential threat, but you never gave any specifics."

Katie took a deep breath. This was her first test. "Do you follow Quidditch?"

Hestia frowned. "From time to time, yes, though if you were to ask me about anything beyond the basics, I wouldn't be much help. Why?"

"Do you know who Oliver Wood is?"

"The name rings a bell." Hestia rapped her knuckles on the desk. "Does he play for Puddlemere?"

"Yes, he's their keeper. He's also a friend of mine, my former Quidditch captain at Hogwarts."

"That's wonderful, Katie, but I don't see how this pertains to a threat," Hestia said impatiently.

"It's relevant," Katie said, "because last week, Oliver Wood was attacked by five wizards who claim to work for a larger organization, though who they are or what they want is still a mystery."

Hestia froze. "Is he…"

"He's going to live, although it's unclear if he will be able to return to Quidditch."

Hestia looked sincerely upset. "I'm sorry about your friend, Katie. That's awful."

"It is, but right now I'm trying to focus on figuring out what happened. Why was he targeted? If they were people are upset You-Know-Who died, then why target someone who's a pureblood? He's famous, but there are plenty of muggleborn Quidditch players to attack."

"I hope you don't expect me to have answers to those questions. This is the first I've heard of anything happening to Oliver Wood." Hestia looked troubled.

Katie believed her, but it didn't stop her disappointment. She had hoped that, being a member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Hestia might have at least heard about the attack. Perhaps the aurors were keeping this even quieter than she had anticipated.

Kate was already halfway standing, ready to leave, when Hestia shot out a hand. "Wait!" she exclaimed.

Katie sat back down quickly.

"You mentioned there were five attackers? And this was about a week ago?"

A flicker of hope surged within Katie as she nodded.

Hestia looked anxiously at the door, which was still closed. She pulled out her wand and muttered, " _Muffliato_." Katie looked at her strangely, so she explained. "It keeps people from being able to overhear anything that you're saying. Very useful spell, especially when you're talking about things you shouldn't be talking about."

"Go on," urged Katie.

"I didn't hear anything about an attack, but five people were arrested last week together, although whatever they're being charged with hasn't been disclosed. That degree of secrecy is a unusual, but it's not unheard of, so I didn't think too much of it. Now that I know, well, it does seem to fit with what you've told me."

"Do you know their names?"

Hestia shook her head. "Not off the top of my head, but I could probably get my hands on the records and send the names to you."

"That would be incredible," Katie said. "Thank you. Sincerely."

"Don't thank me just yet," Hestia warned. "Wait until I actually get the information to you."

"Thank you for trying, at the very least."

Hestia still seemed uncomfortable as her eyes flickered around the room. "Just so you know, Katie, this isn't technically legal, me looking at documents from a case I'm not assigned to. I'm making an exception because this case involves your friend and because I trust you personally. If you eventually report anything on this, though, I don't want my name mentioned."

"Understood," Katie assured her. "Off the record."

"I'll send the information to you once I have it, password protected. You remember the name of the name of the muggle family we were protecting when Rookwood attacked us?"

"I do," said Katie.

"Their last name will be the password."

"Got it."

They shook hands, and Katie left feeling bolstered by her first success. A quick glance at the time told her she could drop by St. Mungo's. Her notebook, purchased several days ago from Flourish and Blotts, sat heavy in her pocket; she could kill two birds with one stone and combine a business call with a social visit. Perhaps she should assess his level of awareness first.

Oliver's room was more crowded than she expected when she arrived. She recognized one of the figures as Healer Mayweather, another as Sean, but the other two men she didn't recognize. Then she saw Oliver, sitting upright on the bed with his legs dangling over the sides. She watched as the two men, both large, hulking figures, positioned themselves on either side of Oliver to allow him to use both of them as support. Slowly, painstakingly, Oliver stood. His kept his right leg hovering several inches above the ground, either unable to unwilling to place any pressure on it. Even though he wore loose-fitting sweatpants, she could still see the several lumps where a brace bulged through. As he raised his arms to loop them over the shoulders of the two mediwizards, she glimpsed stark white bandages underneath his gray shirt. He was healthier, but far from whole.

He stood for about a minute before the mediwizards set him back down on the bed and assisted him in returning to a more comfortable position. Thought Oliver smiled, his hands trembled and pain lines marred his face, revealing the great effort needed for him to stand upright. Healer Mayweather handed him a vial with a sky-colored potion that he drained in one swallow. She spoke softly to him, and he nodded seriously, listening as attentively as Katie had ever witnessed him. When Mayweather and the other two mediwizards left the room, Mayweather noticed her standing outside and acknowledged her. "Miss Bell, I haven't seen you in a few days."

"Life gets busy," she replied.

Mayweather regarded her appraisingly before turning left and walking down the corridor. Now only Sean still remained in the room. He spotted her from where she stood in the doorway and waved her in.

"Katie!" said Oliver in surprise, straightening himself as much as possible in the bed. "I didn't think you would come so soon."

"Well, I had the time, and I was actually hoping I could talk to you in private, if you don't mind."

Sean held up his hands. "Say no more. I'll make myself scarce for a while."

Once Sean had left, closing the door behind him, she sat down in the chair closest to the bed, the puce one she'd slept in one night. An awkward silence enveloped the room.

"You looked good. Standing, I mean," she finally offered as an ice breaker.

Oliver scoffed. "There's no need to lie. I looked terrible, and I was barely able to hold myself up for more than a minute."

"Given where you were a few days ago, that's progress," she said encouragingly.

"It's not enough," he said, absentmindedly rubbing his leg and grimacing.

Katie noticed the gesture. "Does it bother you a lot? Are you feeling okay?"

"What? Oh, yeah, it's fine. They just started me on a different pain-relieving potion. It's not quite as powerful, but it also doesn't knock me out. It's just a little more uncomfortable, but honestly I've felt worse after some practices." He removed his hand self-consciously.

"That's good," said Katie. "I don't know how much you remember, but when I was here before, you definitely weren't up for standing."

"Yes, it was unpleasant, to say the least." Oliver rubbed the back of his head uncomfortably. "Thank you, you know, for being here."

"Well, it was the least I could do, after you spent so much time here when I was in the hospital."

Oliver froze, and a small part of Katie felt vindicated. He had deliberately withheld this information, not simply forgotten to mention it.

"I didn't realize you remembered. I thought you were unconscious," he said carefully.

"Oh, I was," said Katie. "Up until last week, I thought the only times you came to see me were the two visits after I woke up. Funny story, though, I read in a profile of you in _Quidditch Weekly_ that there was a girl you'd visited several times in the hospital, enough that _Witch Weekly_ wrote an article speculating on her identity. I thought to myself, what girl could that be? Was it a different friend of yours in St. Mungo's at the same time as me? When I asked Leanne about it, she told me how you wrote to her, giving her updates on my condition since she had to stay at Hogwarts. Imagine my surprise."

Oliver shifted awkwardly in the bed, winced, and stopped. He finally caught her gaze and immediately looked down. "I didn't think it was anything you'd care about."

"Well, do you care about me being here now, about me being here before even when you weren't awake?"

"Of course," he said, sounding almost offended. Then he realized what he'd just said. "Oh."

"I'm not mad at you, Oliver. Just a little confused."

"I didn't know how to bring it up. What, should I have just said, 'Hi Katie, nice to see you awake. Did you know I've been here every other day for the past month? Let me bore you with my life.'"

She frowned. "Your life isn't boring. Sure, you might be a bit long-winded at times, a little oblivious to the needs of others for sleep early in the morning before Quidditch practice, but we're friends, Oliver. That's what friends do. We tell each other about our lives."

He smiled crookedly. "I'm not a very good friend, am I?"

"An unusual one. Not a bad one."

His expression softened, and warmth suffused the room. She had never seen Oliver Wood as relaxed as he appeared now, a rather ironic development. Oliver sat back, sinking into the pillows.

"Did you want to talk about something in particular? Or was that it?"

Katie pulled out her notebook. "Actually, I was wondering if you remembered anything about your attack. Maybe things are a bit less blurry now, I don't know."

He frowned, and some tension returned to his posture. "Why do you want to know? Does it really matter?"

If she was going to ask him for honesty, she owed him the truth first. She explained the situation to him, including the part about the five wizards being held without public charges pressed against them. She told him about her job, about the work she'd done so far. Oliver's expression grew more disturbed as she carried on.

"It still is pretty hazy, you know. I don't remember specifics once the first curses hit me and once my leg…" he gulped. She nodded encouragingly. "I do remember one of them shouting, 'Here he is.' I was just walking down the street after grabbing drinks with some teammates since we had the day off, and they went off in one direction. When I heard someone shouting, I assumed it was a fan. That happens sometimes, and I usually offer an autograph if they ask. I turned around and there were already three wands pointing at me. I tried to pull my own wand out, but I didn't have any time. They didn't waste any time."

If they recognized him, then the probability of this being a random attack dropped considerably. "Do you remember what they looked like? Any distinguishing characteristics"

He thought about it for a moment. "I couldn't see very well because it was dark outside, but one of them at least wasn't English. His accent—I didn't recognize it, but he was definitely not from anywhere in the UK. After that, I wasn't paying as much attention to the particulars of their voices."

So not only was he targeted, but he was targeted by at least one foreign wizard. It didn't make any sense.

"Do you have any idea why someone would want to attack you?"

He shook his head. "I have no idea. I mean, the only remotely political thing I've ever done was fighting at Hogwarts and trying to protect some of the muggleborn players last year, speaking out occasionally in the press. Nothing compared to what you and other people did." He sighed heavily. "I thought maybe it was a Quidditch thing, like some overzealous fan who didn't want Puddlemere to do well in the League. From what you've told me, that's probably not the case."

"It does seem strange."

"I'm sorry I don't remember more," he said.

"There's no need to be sorry. I remember when everyone kept asking me what I remembered after I woke up, and I had to keep telling them I didn't have a clue who cursed me. All the aurors just had these disappointed expressions, like I'd failed them somehow. I wanted to badly to remember, but I just couldn't. I can hardly blame you for not giving me every detail of what happened."

Oliver reached for her hand and took it in his. She startled at the gesture, but she didn't pull away. His warm, calloused hand reassured her, though she couldn't explain why.

A cough echoed through the room, and she pulled her hand away from his hurriedly. She looked over and saw Sean standing the doorway with guilty expression on his face.

"Sorry to interrupt, but one of the mediwitches is here, says it's time for a couple of your potions. The timing is pretty strict on this one, so it can't wait."

Oliver groaned. "Is this the one that tasted like troll sweat?"

Katie grinned. "Do you know what troll sweat tastes like, Oliver?"

He glared at her, but then returned his attention to Sean. "It is, isn't it? And it always makes me nauseous too."

Sean smiled apologetically. "It's for your own good."

Oliver turned to Katie. "You should probably go, unless you feel like seeing me puke for the next half hour. Personally, I'd prefer if no one witnessed it."

"I'll be back soon. Try to be nice to the mediwitches." She stood up and walked out the room, past the mediwitch who carried the two dreaded potions. Sean pulled her aside as soon as the door closed.

"How are you doing, Katie?"

"Fine, you know. It's good to see Oliver feeling better."

"It certainly is," he said. He glanced at the door, then back to her. "Look, I'm going to make this quick because I want to be there in case he does start puking. It takes a lot out of him, and he needs some support."

"Go ahead, then."

"I wrote to my boss out in Bucharest. He said we do have slots available for Healer trainees and that he would be willing to take you on."

"Wow," was all she could say. Then, "You don't even have my grades?"

"Actually," he coughed a little, "I requested that McGonagall send them over, just so he could take a look. He was impressed. Sorry to do that a little preemptively, but he wanted to know sooner rather than later."

"Thank you, I guess?"

He sensed her apprehension. "You don't need to say yes right now. I just thought I would let you know that the option exists. If you are interested, we probably need to know within the next few weeks."

"I'll think it over," she promised him.

"Great." The sounds of retching emerged from behind the door, and Sean smiled ruefully. "I should probably go in there."

"Yeah. Probably."

He went inside, leaving her standing in the corridor. Her, a healer in Romania? She needed to talk to someone about this, maybe Leanne. In the meantime, it was only three o'clock and she still had work to do. She walked down the hallway feeling more torn than ever.


	7. Igor and Gloria

"Could you see me as a healer?" Katie asked Alicia the following evening at dinner.

Alicia popped her bite of brisket into her mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. She waited until she had swallowed to answer.

"Sure, Katie. I think you'd be a good healer."

Katie pressed on. "But do you see me as one? Or do you see me as something else? Like, I don't know, a potioneer or a ministry worker or journalist?"

"To be honest, I've never thought about it too much. You never really mentioned any job in particular, so I kind of thought you'd just figure it out eventually and I could just say, 'I knew it!' and support you. A part of me still hopes you'll try Quidditch," said Alicia, looking pointedly at Katie.

"No thanks," said Katie. "I like Quidditch, but I think I want something more out of my life."

"Fair enough," said Alicia. Katie immediately imagined the same conversation with Oliver. He would have jumped up and shouted, "More out of life than Quidditch? What is more important than Quidditch?" The thought made her smile, until she noticed Alicia directing a funny look at her.

"Speaking of Quidditch, have you told Lee about the gala?" Katie said, intentionally steering the conversation in a different direction.

Now Alicia's face fell. "Not really. I tried bringing it up, but then he just looked so excited, I couldn't break it to him."

"Alicia—"

"I know, I know, it's two weeks from today. I'll tell him tomorrow, when we're over at his place for lunch. I'll find a way to do it," assured Katie.

A sudden thought hit Katie. "Are you still planning on using me as your date?"

"If you don't mind, then yes, I was," said Alicia.

"I need to go dress robe shopping then. The only real nice robe I own is the one I wore at the Yule ball, and I'm definitely not fifteen anymore. Not that I have any idea of what to wear," she frowned. While she certainly didn't consider herself hopeless at fashion, most of her friends had much better taste than she did, especially Leanne. If she was free tomorrow after lunch, they could head over to Madame Malkin's.

"You'll find something," said Alicia. "But you definitely need to find something else. You've definitely filled out some in the past fifteen years." Katie looked up in surprise. "Filled out in good places, but filled out nonetheless," corrected Alicia.

"I'll ask Leanne. She always looks nice."

"This is your friend from Ravenclaw?" asked Alicia. Katie nodded. "She did always look nice. If she can't do it, I could always ask Kira to help you. If you could see her wardrobe, you'd just die of jealousy."

Recalling her last awkward encounter with Kira, Katie grimaced. "I think it would be a little weird. I don't even know her."

Disappointment flashed across Alicia's face, but she hid it quickly. "That's fine. She just wanted to meet you again, but I guess it might be a little strange to go dress shopping with someone you've only met twice." Alicia maintained a light, casual tone, but she also stabbed her last piece of brisket with more force than necessary.

Katie considered the pros and cons of the situation. On the one hand, she didn't know Kira and her presence would only add a layer of discomfort to an already unpleasant situation (she despised clothes shopping). On the other hand, she sympathized with Alicia's plight, and if Alicia really loved Kira, then Katie needed to at least attempt to befriend her. She resigned herself to being a good friend. "She can come if she wants. Leanne sometimes has weird ideas, and Kira probably knows enough to tell me when they're a little too crazy."

Alicia's face lit up, and she squealed, "Thank you so much, Katie! Ever since she met you, she keeps worrying that you two got off on the wrong foot, and she wants my friends to like her. Since you're the only one who knows about us, you're pretty much her only option at this point."

Katie plastered on a smile. "I'm sure we'll have a great time. Is Sunday a good time? I think I should do it this weekend so there's still time for alterations if I need them."

Alicia's smile broadened. "That's our only off day, so it's perfect. I'll tell her to meet you in Diagon Alley at ten on Sunday."

Ten on Sunday it was. Katie decided to visit Leanne to check her availability, so she excused herself from the table and flooed over to Leanne's flat. She wouldn't mind if Katie showed up unannounced—at least, she hadn't last year when Katie had done so several times a week at least.

Leanne lived alone, but three distinct voices were mumbling in the kitchen when she arrived with a whoosh. They clearly hadn't heard her arrive, so she approached the kitchen entrance cautiously, tiptoeing on the creaky wooden floor, listening carefully to determine who else was in there.

"Are you sure about this?" That was Leanne, so no surprises there.

"Positive. He has no reason to lie to us." Was that Amit? It sounded familiar.

"I assure you, I haf no intention of deceiving eizer of you." She definitely didn't recognize the third voice, a gruff, foreign-sounding baritone.

"It's just…" Leanne again. "I think before we tell Katie—"

"Tell me what?" said Katie, striding through the entrance. If they were discussing her, she preferred they do it to her face.

Leanne jumped five feet in the air, shrieking. Amit (she'd identified the second person correctly) whipped out his wand and pointed it at her threateningly, only relaxing once he realized who it was. The other wizard grabbed a knife from the counter and held it up in defense, poised to slash her if she drew any nearer to him.

"Katie," said Amit, still alarmed, "what are you doing here?"

"I came here to ask Leanne if she wanted to go dress-robe shopping with me on Sunday, but then I heard my name mentioned, so I thought I'd join the party." She tried to appear calm even as the knife tip glinted not two feet from her face.

"Dress shopping?" whispered Leanne.

"Zis is Katie?" shouted the other wizard, jabbing the knife in the air. Katie flinched, backing away from the sharp blade.

"This is Katie," confirmed Amit, placing a calming hand on the wizard's shoulder. "She's a friend, so you should probably put the knife away. It will make this conversation much more pleasant for all of us."

The wizard grunted unhappily but lowered the knife, and Katie noticed Amit relax considerably. He shot a warning look at Katie, one which told her in no uncertain terms to tread cautiously. Now free of the threat of slashing, she evaluated the strange man in front of her. A thick, salt-and-pepper beard obscured the lower half of his face, but there was no hiding the long, ridged scar traversing the left side of his face, passing right down his eye. Even as both eyes flickered from side to side warily, only one actually worked. A thin, cloudly film covered the man's left eye. He wore a dark gray, frayed long coat even in the warm kitchen, but Merlin knew what lay beneath the fabric. She decided right then and there to avoid fast movement or any other surprising gestures.

"So how does Sunday at ten in the Leaky Cauldron sound?" Katie asked Leanne weakly.

"It sounds great," said Leanne said nervously, flitting her gaze between Katie and the foreign wizard.

"How much did you hear, Katie?" the bearded wizard spat out hostilely.

"Igor, you can trust her," reminded Amit. With a wry grin, he said, "Igor, this is Katie, the reporter I told you about. Katie, this is Igor. He's one of my contacts."

Igor eyed her disdainfully. "She looks young. Too naïve."

"She's not much younger than I was when you met me," observed Amit.

"I also fought in the Battle of Hogwarts last year and fought Death Eaters several times when I worked with the Order of the Phoenix,"

"Several battles does not make a fighter. Nor does arrogance," said Igor haughtily.

"Stating the truth isn't arrogant."

" _Nyet_ , but your confidence is. I can see it in ze vay you stand."

"Igor," said Amit warningly, "Katie isn't here to go into battle. She's here to listen."

"I can listen right now," she offered, trying to appease him.

"Ven I talk, it vill be ven and vere I choose. I do not talk in the apartments of strangers." While his condescendence grated against her, she couldn't fault him for being cautious.

"Fine. Let's pick a time and place, right here, right now."

Igor ignored her, instead looking at Amit. "I vill tell you, and you can tell…your friend. I zink I vill be leaving now." He swept one last gaze around the room with his single, working eye. "I vill see you soon, Katie." With that, he stalked out of the room, disapparating with a loud crack once he reached the doorway.

"Well, he was a real charmer," said Katie, trying to lighten the heaviness hanging in the room.

"That's not the first time he's pulled out a knife in front of me," observed Amit. "Old habits die hard, I suppose."

"I see why you wanted to move into the arts section," muttered Leanne.

Amit swung an arm around Leanne's shoulder and leaned back against the counter. "I do miss it sometimes, the adrenaline rush, the constant fear of being skewered. Igor is definitely one of my more…let's say, cautious friends. As you could probably tell from his face, he's been around the block more than a few times."

"What is he? Russian?"

"Quite. I first met him in Moscow, right as the Berlin Wall was falling. I was at this shady little bar when the news broke, and people had some mixed and rather violent reactions to the whole situation. He saw me use my wand to deflect a chair being thrown my way, recognized me as another wizard in a muggle bar, and pulled me aside to tell me to stop being such an idiot with my magic. Then he whipped out his own wand and rather inconspicuously collapsed the entire ceiling." Amit shrugged. "It definitely stopped the brawl."

"Holy shit," breathed Leanne.

"That was my second week on the job, mind you. I still did the boring stuff for another few years before I figured out that I liked working with people like Igor. I hadn't spoken to him in a couple of years, but he's pretty much the same as I remember."

"Someday, we need to sit down over a bottle of firewhiskey so you can tell me all your stories from before," Katie said.

"We'll see," laughed Amit. "Only if you tell me yours."

"There's not much to say."

"What?" he said mockingly. "You mean you don't have anything to tell after fighting at Hogwarts and working with the Order?"

"Hogwarts isn't really a funny story, and I may have exaggerated a little to impress Igor," she confessed. "I was only in one real fight with the Order."

"Katie definitely has some horror stories to tell about her time on the Gryffindor Quidditch team," added Leanne. "All the times Wood dragged you guys outside in the pouring rain at the crack of dawn."

"Again, you just kind of said all there is to say. Most of the time I was just trying not to fly directly into Oliver in revenge."

"That I do want to hear about," interjected Amit. "Unfortunately, Igor is actually staying in my flat, and I should really head back there to make sure he isn't throwing knives at my living room wall again. I'm not that great at repairing spells."

"If he is, I've got a bit of knack for them," offered Leanne.

"I'll just have to invite you over then," said Amit teasingly. Leanne blushed, and Amit leaned down to press a kiss on her cheek. "I'll see you Monday. As for you," he pointed at Katie, "I'll relay any message Igor tells me. Until then."

He strode away confidently, footsteps echoing against the floor until he too disapparated with sharp crack. Leanne's blush lingered on her cheeks, and Katie raised her eyebrows. "Anything going on there?" she asked, gesturing to space where Amit had stood.

"What? Huh? Oh, you mean with Amit? Merlin no, there's nothing."

"He's certainly charismatic."

"He knows he is. Plus, he's nearly eight years older than me."

"My parents are ten years apart," said Katie. "That's nothing too unusual."

"Well, believe me when I say there's nothing between us."

"Whatever you say," said Katie, knowing when to drop the subject. "So, about dress shopping?"

"Ooh, yes, let's talk about that!" exclaimed Leanne, and then the two of them were discussing the much more innocuous (though much less interesting) subject of fashion.

The next day at lunch at Lee's, Alicia pulled Lee aside and fumbled her way through an excuse. Lee appeared disappointed but not distraught, so Katie really did have to go dress shopping to maintain Alicia's façade. Alicia thanked her profusely once more before disappearing, presumably for an afternoon date with Kira. Angelina crinkled her brow at this sequence of events, but refrained from speaking. Instead, she offered her opinions on Katie's dress selections and Katie rolled her eyes. Angelina, for all her bluster and bold posturing, loved a beautiful dress more than Katie and Alicia combined.

Katie arrived in the Leaky Cauldron before either Leanne or Kira on Sunday morning. She greeted Tom, the landlord and barman, and the two of them were chatting when Leanne and Kira walked into the room almost at the exact same time.

"Katie," they called out in unison, and then looked at each other in surprise. Katie abruptly realized she'd forgotten to tell Leanne Kira would be accompanying them. Clearly it had slipped Alicia's mind that Leanne was going along with them as well.

She walked over to them. "Kira, this is Leanne, one of my best friends. Leanne, this is Kira, a, uh, good friend of Alicia's."

Kira didn't comment on Katie's description of her relationship to Alicia. Instead, she smiled broadly and shook hands enthusiastically with Leanne, who responded in a friendly if more tentative manner. "Lovely to meet you, Kira."

Eager to move beyond introductions, Katie began to lay out the plan. "I was thinking we would just go into Diagon Alley, probably start with Madame Malkin's—"

"We're not going there," interrupted Kira.

"We're not?" echoed Katie in surprise.

"No, we're going to Gloria's."

"Gloria's Gowns?" gasped Leanne.

"Where else?" Kira asked smiling.

Katie gaped at her. "I can't…I can't afford anything in there. Maybe I could by a singular glove but—

"That's why I'm buying," said Kira a little smugly.

Katie's jaw nearly came unhinged. "You're…buying? You can't possible mean…those things are so expensive, and you, you…no. We'll just go to Madame Malkin's."

"Actually, I insist," said Kira. "You're doing a rather large favor for me and Alicia, and I don't want it to cost you anything. Everyone else at the gala will be dressed similarly, and there's no reason for you to stand out, at least not in that way."

Katie felt like a bucket of cold water had just been dumped on her head. Everything in Gloria's Gowns probably cost at least several times her current monthly salary, and Kira had just offered to buy one of them for her. She stood in The Leaky Cauldron, gobsmacked, speechless.

"Katie, look, I make much more money than you. That may be impolite to say, but it's true. Let me do this one thing for you, all right? It will make me feel much better."

She opened her mouth several times, but no words escaped. Leanne responded for her. "She says yes."

"Great," Kira beamed. Let's head over there, shall we?"

Still dumbstruck, Katie trailed behind Kira and Leanne who were now discussing the merits of the latest collection from Gilbert Glibberton, one of Wizarding London's more avant-garde designers. Katie understood none of their gibberish about fabric or cuts, so she simply shut her mouth. No need to ask questions when she wouldn't understand the answers anyways. They passed the normal part of Diagon Alley, past Madame Malkin's and Flourish and Blotts and all of the stores she normally visited until they turned a corner and walked down a sidestreeet lined with several luxury boutiques. On the left stood Gloria's Gowns, the most expensive dress robe store in the entire United Kingdom.

Kira greeted the store clerk by name as they walked in. Katie gulped, staring at the various models draped with dresses that cost more money than she had ever made in her entire life. All of them shimmered, sparkled or glowed in the soft lighting. She would look like a pygmy puff playing dress up in any one of them. When she accidentally brushed one of the dresses, streaks of pale lavender rippled across the deep violet fabric. Beautiful magic. Beautiful, expensive magic.

"Kira, darling," crowed the woman who walked through the doors with the flourish. Katie recognized her immediately from the posters as Gloria Haverdish herself, the celebrity designer and owner of Gloria's Gowns. Gloria was impeccably dressed in a midnight blue elegant robe, with her platinum blonde hair coiffured so it towered at least half a meter above her head. Kira and Gloria exchanged air kisses while Leanne and Katie looked on incredulously. Then Gloria turned to the two of them. "Which one of you lovely ladies is looking for a new dress?"

Gloria pointed at Katie. "This one. She's needs something for the Premiere Gala in two weeks."

"So soon!" exclaimed Gloria. "That will make a custom gown much more difficult."

"I don't really need anything custom," said Katie quickly. "I didn't know I was even going to the gala until this week."

"Well, let's see what we can do nonetheless. Maybe something in here will catch your eye." Katie felt sure anything in here would already be the most beautiful item of clothing she ever owned, but she just nodded.

Gloria circled Katie, critically eyeing every inch of her body from head to toe. "Your hair is such a lovely shade of blonde, dearie, and you've got a good figure. Not as muscled as girls like Kira, more feminine." Katie noted a distinct eyeroll from Kira at that comment. "Definitely better in the bust than the bum, so we'll have to highlight that, along with your legs too." Katie shifted uncomfortably beneath Gloria's intense scrutiny. "Dear, do you know what jewelry you'll be wearing?"

Kira answered for her. "She's going to decide once we've picked out a gown."

"A wise decision. Some girls just waltz in here saying they need something to match this necklace, and well," she clucked her tongue disapprovingly, "a gown is much more important than any piece of jewelry, wouldn't you agree? Much more of an eye catcher"

"Of course," said Katie.

"I'm glad to hear it. I'll just be right back with some suggestions, and we'll see what you like."

Gloria left, leaving a whirlwind of perfume behind her. Leanne looked like she was desperately trying not to laugh, and even Kira bit her lip to hold back a smirk. No Death Eater had ever overwhelmed Katie as much as Gloria Haverdish. When Gloria returned several minutes later carrying a stack of shimmering dresses, a wave of lightheadedness overcame her. _You're a Gryffindor_ , Katie told herself. _You've faced down Death Eaters. You can buy a dress._

Leanne and Kira disapproved of the first dozen Katie tried on, claiming the cut didn't suit her figure or the color overshadowed her eyes or something else to that effect. Katie thought they looked just fine, but she knew better than to argue. The thirteenth impressed them more, but the slit that ran up past the knee alarmed Katie so she vetoes it. They had been in the store for nearly three hours when at last Leanne emitted a happy sigh when Katie emerged from the dressing room. Kira wore a satisfied expression, and even Gloria regarded her approvingly. The dress, a strapless, iridescent, floor-length deep bluish purple affair, swirled gracefully around her as she turned in place. It was simple, elegant and not gaudy at all like Katie had feared.

"This could work," said Gloria as she inspected the fit of the dress. "I would have to make a few alterations along the hem, the waist, the neckline, but you wear it well."

"You look comfortable too," remarked Leanne.

Pleased with the dress but also eager to leave, Katie said, "I'll take it."

"Wonderful," said Kira, clapping her hands. "I'll make arrangements to pay for it. Katie, you can get back in your clothes now."

Gratefully, Katie changed into her jeans and shirt in the quiet of the dressing room. It was past lunch time now, and her stomach growled in protest. When she emerged, she asked, "How about lunch?"

"Jewelry next?" said Kira at the same time.

"Jewelry?" said Katie. "I thought the dress was it."

"Well, you can't wear that dress with the jewelry to match. Shoes as well."

Katie sighed, resigning herself to her fate. "As long as we can eat first. I'm starving."

In the end, their shopping excursion lasted until dinnertime, as Kira insisted she try on a variety of necklaces, bracelets, earrings and shoes until she found just the right set to match her dress. She also refused to allow Katie to pay for anything, even lunch and dinner, and by the time Katie at last left Diagon Alley, she felt like she had stepped into some magical world where money didn't matter and she could afford anything glittering in display windows. Alas, she only had a young reporter's salary.

Once back in the flat, she found Alicia sprawled out on the couch, a hand over her face. Alicia lifted her hand up when Katie walked it, and she jumped upright as Katie entered.

"Did you have a good time? How was Kira?"

"Kira was lovely, even if I didn't understand most of what she was talking about with dresses and shoes. Also, she paid for everything. Did you know she was planning on doing that?"

Alicia feigned innocence. "Well, she might have mentioned the possibility…"

"Alicia!" I shouted. "Come on."

"Okay, fine, I knew. But I didn't want to tell you because I knew you wouldn't agree to let her come if you knew, and I also wanted to have something nice for the gala. I know you're nervous about not fitting in, and this will help you."

Katie glared at her. "I'm going to remember this. Gloria was analyzing my body like no one ever has before."

Alicia coughed conveniently, muttering, "Luke," under breath as she did.

"That's different. Luke and I were dating, and he wasn't evaluating my breast size as he felt me up."

Alicia snickered. "Sure. Whatever you say."

Just then, Angelina barged through the door and took in their expressions. "What did I miss?"

"Luke Tipper evaluating Katie's breast size while feeling her up," stated Alicia solemnly.

Angelina snorted, "Yeah, he would," and walked into the kitchen.

Katie through up her hands. "You both are incorrigible. I'm going to bed."

"Night!" shouted Alicia. Katie just slammed the bedroom door.

The next morning at work, she greeted Risa warmly, grateful to be free of people who cared about nonsense like fashion and Luke Tipper. She had several letters waiting for her on her desk, most of which she expected, but one in particular sparked her interest. It was from Hestia Jones, the witch who'd promised to get Katie the names of the wizards who attacked Oliver. She ripped open the envelope enthusiastically, but her excitement faded when she saw the blank piece of parchment. A mistake? Then sh remembered what Hestia had told her. The password was the name of the family they'd been escorting when Rookwood attacked them.

She tapped the parchment with wand and muttered, "Langley." Immediately, curly handwriting began scrawling its way across the page.

 _Dear Katie,_

 _I'm sorry it's taken me several days to find the names—the aurors are quite anxious to hide any information relating to them or to the attack. I finally managed to get ahold of the records relating to their arrest, and here's what I could find:_

 _Dimitar Lukov, Bulgarian_

 _Simeon Ratshenko, Bulgarian_

 _Vitali Kosovoro, Ukrainian_

 _Kir Firtich, Russian_

 _Emil Petrescu, Romanian_

 _Of the five, Dimitar and Simeon are known criminals in Bulgaria, with multiple previous arrests for the use of dark magic. Vitali's only connection to illicit activity is his father's involvement in an attempted coup against the Soviet Union Ministry in the early 1970s, but Vitali was only a child then and he has no record of his own. Kir is older, has a long history of protest in Russia, including some violent encounters with law enforcement. I couldn't find anything on Emil, which means he's new to the business or he's just better at not being caught. Given that he's already in his mid-thirties, I'm inclined to believe the latter._

 _I will pay attention to anything else I hear, but like I said, the aurors seem determined to release as little information as possible. Best of luck with your endeavors._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Hestia_

Dimitar Lukov. Simeon Ratshenko. Vitali Kosovoro. Kir Firtich. Emil Petrescu. Now she had names.

Now she had a story.

 **A/N: I hope this advances the plot a bit more. More Oliver next chapter, I promise!**


	8. Of Idle Chatter

Now that Katie had names to work with, her investigation took on a new fervor. She'd already met with several people, most of whom insisted they knew nothing about the attacks, but now she could accost them with names and probe further into their lives. They were all foreign wizards, which meant that while some of the Order members might be useful, she would definitely need to look beyond her circle of acquaintances and contacts. She needed to talk to people like Igor. Perhaps he knew some information about the Russian wizard, Firtich.

On Wednesday, she updated Lee on her progress, and his eyes lit up when she told him she had names.

"I'll reach out to people I know. Don't worry, I'll be discreet," he assured her, though she never doubted Lee's caution. He didn't conduct Potterwatch and survive the war without a healthy dose of prudence.

Risa also offered to help and, given her many years in the business, she could offer access to people Katie never knew existed. Not for the first time, she wondered why a woman so experienced chose to work for a man nearly twenty years her junior, but she didn't question the results. She spent most of the day writing letters until her hands cramped and she decided a break was in order. Without really planning her destination, she found herself outside of St. Mungo's, a familiar and terrible place.

The receptionist on the ground floor recognized her (a rather unfortunate development, to be so recognizable at a hospital) and informed her Oliver had been transferred to a different room, one for their less critical patients. Healer Mayweather declared him stable enough just yesterday, and now he resided in room 403 rather than 457.

Room 403 was still a private room—Oliver's Quidditch salary could obviously afford that much—but it was also larger and airier with flowy curtains on the windows and numerous plants, flowering and otherwise, placed on the windowsills and table. Notes dangled off most of the plants, presumably from well-wishers, and her hands felt rather empty. She pulled a pen from her pocket and transformed it into a delicate orchid. An old bottle cap from her purse became a vase, and she set both flower and vase on the bedside table. Oliver slept soundly, unperturbed by her presence. Several leg weights lay on the floor, indicating that physical therapy had begun. No wonder he was exhausted.

She pulled out _Discovery of Dragons_ (Charlie's book which she'd accidentally borrowed and then forgotten to return) and began reading. Living with Angelina and Alicia afforded her little or no quiet, independent time after work, so she relished the opportunity to relax and read about the Chinese depiction of dragons in folklore. At Hogwarts, she would occasionally steal away to secluded spots on the grounds in order to read books. Leanne once joked that Katie should have been a Ravenclaw, but Katie didn't think a love of reading qualified her to be a Ravenclaw. Her loyalty was always to Gryffindor.

Oliver stirred in the bed, mumbling something under his breath, and Katie dropped the book with a loud thud.

"Oliver? You awake?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"I suppose so." He opened his eyes lazily, assessing his surroundings. "Sorry to disturb your reading."

"Nothing to worry about there. It's actually Charlie's book, and I may or may not have inadvertently stolen it from him."

Oliver regarded her curiously. "You planning on giving it back?"

"Eventually. It's actually quite fascinating, you know. I grew up reading about dragons in fairytales and myths, but exploring the idea of real dragons and their interpretation by muggles for the past several thousand years, it's a whole new perspective I'd never considered."

He looked amused. "Were you always this smart in school?"

"Near the top of my class. I seem to recall helping you out in Transfiguration one time, and I was three years below you," she reminded him.

"No need to rub it in. I'm honestly convinced McGonagall only passed me in my third year because failing me would have meant kicking me off the team. I did get better."

"You got better," she agreed. "I think you did pretty well for yourself in the end, even without a N.E.W.T. in Transfiguration."

"I'm sure you got one. You probably got one in all your classes."

"Not Ancient Runes. I dropped that after fifth year, decided I'd rather focus elsewhere," she said.

"Well, who's going to want you now? Ancient runes is a dealbreaker, even for Quidditch players."

"Oliver Wood, are you joking with me?" she asked incredulously.

He seemed offended. "Is that so surprising?"

"You were always a bit of a stick in the mud," she admitted. "A good stick, though."

"Hm. I suppose I can be a bit…intense."

"You once told Harry to catch the snitch or die trying. I think Harry was twelve. You told a _twelve_ year old to sacrifice himself for Quidditch," she repeated for emphasis.

"He caught the snitch, didn't he?" said Oliver sincerely. 

"That's not the point."

"I know, I know. I'm joking, Kates," he told her.

"Kates? That's a new one. Is Katie too long for you?" she asked, a wry smile on her face.

"I don't know, it just…sorta…slipped out," he mumbled, looking away.

"Well, if I can call you Ollie, you can call me Kates," she said.

"Whatever," he said, waving her offer aside. "You here for a friendly visit, or are you angling for some information? I don't remember anything else, if that's what you're after."

"If I said both, would that be okay? I actually have some names with me, the names of the men who attacked you. Maybe you'll recognize one of them."

She recited all of the names from memory, and Oliver's frown grew deeper as he listened to each one. Aft she finished, he shook his head. "None of those sound familiar to me at all. They're definitely not involved in Quidditch, since I know most of the people involved with the international Quidditch teams from those countries."

"Certainly not Quidditch related," she agreed. "Several of them have known dark magic backgrounds or family ties to criminals. Pleasant folks."

"I'll say. You think you can find more on these people?"

"I know I can. I already have a meeting with this scary Russian guy named Igor. He pulled a knife on me when I first met him. Granted, I did startle the guy—I did barge in on Leanne's place to ask her about dress shopping—but Amit had to calm him down before he'd stop waving it in front of my face."

"Who's Amit?"

"Huh?" She never expected Oliver to pick out Amit out of the conversation instead of Igor.

"Who's Amit?" he asked again. "I've never heard you mention him before."

"Oh, he's just one of Leanne's coworkers. He writes on music now, but he used to be a political journalists. One of the people he met at his old job was Igor, and it's actually a pretty hilarious story when he tells it."

"I'm sure. Also, dress shopping?" He made a face.

"You know, I tell you about a terrifying Russian wizard who threatens me with a knife, and you ask me about Amit and dress shopping? You sound more like Angelina right now. She always cared way too much about dresses."

He shrugged. "I don't know, it's nice to hear about normal things for a while. Takes my mind off the past week and a half."

"Oh," she said, any irritation she felt evaporating. "Do you actually want to hear about dress shopping? It wasn't just dresses. I had to go jewelry and shoe shopping too."

"Well," he said grinning, "now I have to know more."

"I don't know when you developed a sense of humor, Oliver, but I must say, it doesn't suit you," said Katie.

"Well, I may need to use it after my first physical therapy session. It's a little funny how terrible I was," he said grimly.

"If it's your first day, it's going to be rough."

"I just didn't anticipate how rough it was going to be," he said, brooding.

She sighed internally. She had planned on telling him more about her encounter with Igor, but clearly Oliver didn't need to hear about dark wizards from foreign countries. He needed vicarious shopping therapy, and even if she had detested most of her shopping experience yesterday, she would relive it to make Oliver Wood happy.

"Do you know how many different waistlines there are? For dresses I mean? Because I thought I'd heard of most of them until yesterday when Gloria Haverdish decided I needed to dry on every possible style."

"I will say, I did not," said Oliver casually, but gratitude shone through in his eyes.

"Both Leanne and Kira knew—this is Kira Hapley, by the way, your teammate and Alicia's friend who decided to not only crash my shopping expedition but pay for everything—anyways, they all had so many opinions, and…"

She described each and every gown they'd stuck her in, from the skin-tight fuschia mini-dress with a bow in back (Gloria's idea, both Kira and Leanne had been suitably horrified) to the aquamarine mermaid-style gown which made Katie feel like she couldn't move faster than a snail. She was about to describe the purple gown, the one she'd finally chosen, when she glanced at Oliver and realized his eyes were closed and his breathing was even. He'd fallen asleep.

"Pity," she said to herself. "He's missing the best part. No matter."

As she got up to leave, she inspected the orchid she'd left on his table one last time. The flower, a lovely shade of violet, stood tall and proud within the vase. She tapped it once and the color deepened to a deep bluish-purple, the exact color of her dress. "Perfect."

I should visit Oliver more often, she thought. He makes an excellent listener. With one last look at her sleeping former Quidditch captain, she left St. Mungo's and returned to work.

Back at work, a letter from Amit lay on her desk. Finally, news from Igor, she thought.

 _Dear Katie,_

 _I sincerely hope you will be able to meet Igor at the following time and location. He (rightly) believes that once you've met with him, I will send him on his merry way, and thus has delayed the meeting as long as possible so as to keep his place in London. Please, please, do not miss this meeting. My flat cannot endure another week of his presence, and Leanne has begun refusing to come over to cast those repairing charms._

 _Tomorrow, 8:00 pm, Lintmere Pub on Orchard Street._

 _Your very desperately in need of a drink friend,_

 _Amit_

She smiled as she folded away the letter. Tomorrow night, she might actually get some answers. In the meantime, she needed to keep diggings for crumbs. She decided Sean was right and more English witches and wizards needed to spend time abroad—so many were ignorant of anything happening beyond their borders. Harry had promised to contact Krum, a fellow Bulgarian, but she doubted Krum knew anyone related to a criminal organization.

All of Thursday, her mind buzzed with anticipation. She met with Morgan Pozzwackle of the Plimping Pozzwackles, a band Leanne knew. While Katie appreciated her friend's effort, two minutes into the conversation and she already knew it was a waste of time. He claimed to have performed for the sorts of underground audiences that wizards like Lukov, Ratshenko, Kosovoro, Firtich, and Petrescu might frequent, but she quickly ascertained that even if he did, he knew nothing about his audience. She visited Oliver again and they chatted about her day until the physical therapist arrived, bearing instruments of torture if the look on Oliver's face was to be believed, and she excused herself. She had begun a project of reading through previous issues of _The Daily Prophet_ , _Magic International_ , and any other relevant magazines she could get her hands on. She skimmed through _Prophet_ articles, but _Magic International_ and its ilk required more intense, careful reading. So far, she'd come up empty, although she now felt more prepared than ever to talk about trade restrictions on dragon liver between Russia and Hungary.

At last, the time came. She left early so as not to miss the appointment—Amit didn't sound like he could handle it—and found herself a table at the back, set apart from other customers and the bar itself. She began flipping through _Magic International_ absentmindedly, scanning for mentions of the four countries in question: Russia, Bulgaria, Ukraine and Romania. A small cough alerted her to the presence of someone standing over her.

"You know," said Amit, "Igor wouldn't approve of such reckless behavior. You didn't even notice me approach, so how could you notice if someone followed you here?"

She put down the journal. "Something tells me this is just a location to meet, not a location to talk."

Amit sat down across from her. "You learn quickly. Good, but not good enough." He pulled out a small silver flask from his jacket pocket and took a deep swig from it, grimacing slightly.

"I was going to offer to buy you a drink, but you obviously came prepared," she observed wryly.

"I did mention it was a rough week, right? You owe me a drink, Katie Bell."

"As long as you can hold your liquor after whatever it was you just drank."

"Trust me," he smiled. "It won't be a problem."

She motioned to one of the waiters for two beers, dark ones, and then looked to Amit for confirmation. "Should I have ordered three?"

"Igor won't drink anything given to him by a stranger. He trusts me, but he wouldn't trust a place like this. Besides, he prefers vodka."

"Figures," she snorted. "He should be here soon, right?"

"As soon as he deems it safe to enter, which depends on how long his inspection of the room takes. Given that he chose this place, he's probably already swept it before, but he still needs to do one last check."

The beers arrived quickly, and Katie sipped hers thoughtfully. "I'm surprised he ever came to trust you so much. How did you ever manage that?"

Amit smiled. "That, my friend, is a very long story, and definitely not one for here and now."

"Is this one where you need a lot of firewhiskey before telling it?"

"Firewhiskey, yes, and a great deal of trust," Amit added. "More than can be earned in three weeks of friendship. No offense, Katie."

Thought he kept his tone light, his eyes contained a rare weightiness, and she didn't disagree with him. She took another sip of her beer, hesitant to respond to his last statement.

"Ah." Amit perked up considerably. "There's Igor, right on schedule I suppose."

Igor approached them with heavy footsteps and a clear clink of metal on metal, indicating he was armed in the muggle way as well as the wizard. She couldn't tell if it was the dim lighting of the room or an actual change, but he seemed more grizzled than he had before. He sat heavily next to Amit, who quickly scooted to the corner to accommodate Igor's significant physical presence.

"I vas glad to see you came on time, Katie Bell," said Igor.

"Wait, how long have you been here?" she asked.

"Long enough," he replied. "I see you're also drinking this pazetic English beer of yours. Have you come here before? Do you trust the people who serve you?"

"Igor, no one is going to try to poison us," said Katie. Amit flinched, and Igor's expression became even stonier. "Fine," she relented. "Next time I'm meeting you, I'll check for poison first."

"Good. I'm glad you understand." He looked warily around the room. "As soon as you've finished your drink, you and I are going to leave, and Amit is going to stay here, make sure no one tries to follow us."

Amit held up his glass in a mock salute. "Glad to be useful somehow, my friend. I can also direct any female admirers you might have accrued in the appropriate direction. "

Igor's glare would have incinerated Katie on the spot, but Amit simply looked amused. One day, she resolved, she would figure out the full story of Amit and Igor, but tonight she needed to concentrate on the issue at hand. She began a trivial conversation with Amit about Celestina Warbeck's latest song to pass the time while she finished her beer at a respectable pace. When at last she drained the last drop, she stood up.

"I think that's enough for one night," she said.

"Speak for yourself," said Amit, playing along. "I definitely need another round. That nice young woman looks lonely, don't you think? Should I approach her?"

"Whatever makes you happy," she told him. "I'll be outside."

"I need a smoke," muttered Igor, and he followed her outside into the unseasonably cool summer air. Once standing at the edge of an alleyway and the street, Katie turned to him, ready to talk. To her surprise, he had actually pulled out a cigarette.

"You're actually smoking?" she said. "I thought that was part of the act."

"The fewer smaller lies I must tell, ze easier it is to keep track of ze big ones," he retorted, puffing out a cloud of smoke. He blew on it and the smoke coalesced into a large bear shape that reared its back on its hind legs before dissipating in the breeze. He noted her impressed look, and something akin to a smile quirked the corners of his lips beneath the mustache and beard. "English vizards alvays had much to learn from Russia. Slavic spells, defense against Rusalki, how to make palatable alcohol. But, I digress.

He held out his hand to her. She stretched out her own, but hesitated before initiating contact.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked.

"Somevere safe, I promise. I vould not take you anyvere else."

She reached out, grabbed his hand, and in a whirlwind they were gone spinning through the air above London. When they landed, they slammed forcefully into the hardwood floors of their new destination and she stumbled. The smell of must and damp decay immediately assaulted her nostrils and she crinkled her nose instinctually before even taking in her surroundings. Once she looked around, the source of the smell was obvious. They stood in what appeared to be the living room of a small house, but a house that had been poorly kept for a very long time. A sheen of dust coated every surface, and even her few steps had kicked up a cloud of dirt which now hung in the air. Stuffing poked out of the few pieces of furniture she could see once Igor lit up the room, and while she never expected Igor to display any sort of taste in design, the faded floral patterns on the couches and chair were atrocious by any standard. A mouse scampered back into the wall, behind one of the rotting wooden tables.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"My mozer's house, or razer the house vere she grew up. She hasn't lived here for a very long time," he said, gazing at the room with some odd affection.

Katie hadn't actually expected him to answer, but what he said surprised her even more than the fact of his response. "Your mother was English?"

"Yes, she vas. A beautiful English girl, or so my fazer described her. Adventurous. Not afraid of a gruff _Ruski_ man like him. She ran avay, traveled to _Sankt Peterburg_ viz him vere she lived for a year before dying in ze process of giving birz to me."

"I'm sorry," she told him.

"Don't be. I've had many years to miss a voman I never met. Vat I know of her, I learned from my fazer or from my grandparents, alzough by ze time I found zem, zey did not remember much. Zey left me zis house. It has been useful to me over ze years. No von can enter vizout me, not zrough any means. It is unplottable. Ve can talk here."

"Sounds good to me," she said. "I'll just…uh, pull up a chair." A quick _scourgify_ removed most of the dust off of one of the least rickety chairs she could find and she gingerly sat in it, testing whether or not it could bear her weight. It groaned, but did not collapse. Igor remained standing, observing her as she pulled out her notebook and her transcription quill, the latter a present Leanne had given her as congratulations on her new job.

"So, Amit tells me you want information on foreign vizards who attacked your friend. Do you have anyzing more…specific?"

"I have names," she said. "Five names. One of them was Russian, a wizard named Kir Firtich."

One of Igor's bushy eyebrows shot straight up, disappearing behind the curly hair that covered his forehead. "Firtich, you say?"

"Yes, Kir Firtich. You know him?"

"I know his brozer Kostya better. An interesting pair, ze two of zem. Tvins, you know."

"No, I didn't know. I didn't even know he had a brother."

"Kostya vould prefer it zat vay. Zey haven't spoken in years, not since zeir fazer died and zey nearly killed each ozer at the ze funeral," Igor said.

"Difference of opinion?"

"Kostya is like me. He believes zat the vorld voud be better if ze Russian Vizzard Ministry separated itself from ze muggle von." At her surprised look, he said, "Only zose muggles at ze very top know about our existence, but ve still operate jointly viz them. I zink it is stupid, zat the muggle Russian government is corrupt and ve should remove ourselves from it. From vat Kostya has told me, Kir favors complete integration. Ze removal of ze Statute of Secrecy."

"That's crazy," Katie exclaimed. "I mean, that's been around for ages. The consequences of removing it would be—

"Catastrophic, I know. I have dealt viz zis for far longer than you have been alive."

She flushed. "Sorry. Do you think it's possible whatever he's involved in is trying to remove the Statute?"

"It vould not surprise me. Who vere ze ozer vizards? Perhaps I know zem as well."

"Oh, yes," she fumbled in her brain for a moment, dredging up the information. "There were two Bulgarian wizards, Dimitar Lukov and Simeon Ratshenko, and then this Ukrainian guy Vitali Kosovoro. Oh, and Emil Petrescu, from Romania."

"Hm," said Igor, and he stood in silence for a long minute, eyes closed. He opened them without warning, continuing the conversation as if she'd just spoken. "Lukov _i_ Ratshenko. I have heard of zem, and not good zings either. Zey supported Voldemort as much as zey could from afar."

"Then they wouldn't be in favor of integration," Katie said. "If they supported Voldemort, they probably don't like muggles that much."

"Not necessarily," he corrected her. "Some who envision an integrated vorld see von vere muggles know about us only so zat zey can be ruled by us. Zey see muggles as tools, nozing more."

"I thought we'd rid ourselves of that for a while," she muttered.

Igor chuckled darkly. "Vat is it zat muggle leader said? 'You can kill a man, but you can't kill an idea.' Especially not if zat idea has existed for zousands of years before zat man. Someday, maybe not in England, a new Voldemort vill emerge. He vas not ze first, and he vill not be ze last."

"We just fought one war," she said. "Can't we wait a while before the next one begins?"

"Life doesn't work zat way. I zought perhaps you vould understand zat after everyzing zat happened over ze past several years."

"I don't think the world is an inherently terrible place. I think more good than bad exists, in both people and in the world."

He smiled cynically at her. "You remind me of Amit, ven I first met him, you know. Not so much now, but ven he vas some stupid young vizard zinking he could make sense of the ze vorld."

"You trust him now, don't you? You two are friends. Perhaps me being like him isn't such a bad thing."

Igor sighed. "Ven ve first me, I only paid attention to him because here vas an English vizard who spoke Russian. I zought perhaps he vas another English-Russian vizard like me. I had only met von or two ozer English and Russian vizards before."

"Amit speaks Russian?" she asked curiously.

" _On gavorit pa Ruski ochen khorosho_. He speaks very vell, especially for a non-Russian person. Didn't make him any smarter. Zat came later, vonce he figured out a few more zings."

"Huh," she said. "I should ask him how he learned."

"Do vat you vant viz your own time," Igor said dismissively. "Right now, you are talking to me. Who vere ze other two names? Kosovoro and Emil Petrescu?" Katie nodded. "Petrescu I do not know. I have never been to Romania or dealt viz Romanian vizards before."

"Kosovoro?" she prodded.

"I know his fazer. Little Vitali alvays looked up to his fazer, alvays vanted to prove himself. It does not surprise me he found trouble."

"Is there any connection between him and the others? Is there anything that links them all together?"

Igor shook his head. "Zat, I do not know. Vonce I am back in Russia, I can look furzer, see if Kostya heard from his brozer recently. He vill be in an vonderful mood after he hears Kir vas arrested." She detected no trace of humor in that last statement.

"Will you just owl me once you know more?"

He gave her a withering look. "You zink I trust owls to send information like zat?"

"Well, what then?" she asked him, a little frustrated. "Do I just wait for you to show up in person in England again?"

Igor shrugged. "Is zat a problem?"

She huffed out a little. Merlin only knew when he would next visit England, and she didn't want to wait that long. She glanced around the room, looking for another way, a bolt of inspiration. Then it hit her.

Igor watched with mild curiosity as she ripped out two pages of her notebook and smoothed it across the dusty coffee table off to the side of her. She pulled out her wand carefully, making sure to never point it at Igor, and then said rather loudly, " _Gemineus_." Each page glowed slightly before fading back into its dull appearance. She put away the transcribing quill from where it hovered in the air, waiting to write whatever was said, and pulled out a normal one. She wrote several words on one page, and her curly script slowly appeared on the other page as well. Satisfied, she pocketed one of the pages and handed Igor the other. "Use this to write to me. It works in both directions, and you can vanish the ink as soon as you're done."

"How vill I know it's you? Anyvone could use this."

"We'll have a little greeting. Something only a few people know about us, like for example, I had a pet fish when I was younger and I named him Jasper. Only my mom and a couple of my friends know that. I'll call you Jasper."

"Fine," he said, stowing away the page. "In zat case, I zink I vill call you Marianne."

"Why Marianne?" she said. "Is there some secret behind the name?"

"Marianne vas my mozer. Only five ozer people still alive today know zat. Make sure it stays zat vay." His voice was gruff, but she recognized the importance of what he had just told her when he wouldn't meet her gaze.

"Thank you," she said. "For everything."

He just held out his hand. Recognizing it as her cue to leave, she gathered all her loose belongings back into her purse before grabbing onto him and letting him take her away through sidealong apparation.

They landed back in the alleyway near the pub where they had met. She let go of him quickly and hugged her purse to her side and shaking off the discombobulation that always accompanied sidealong apparation. As she turned to thank him one more time, he disappeared with another loud crack leaving her standing alone on the street. The air was cooler and fresher than it had been in Marianne's house and she shivered slightly in the wind.

She glanced into the window of the pub and saw Amit sitting at the bar, talking to another man. It couldn't hurt to join him, she thought, so she stepped into the awaiting warmth away from the chill and the lingering dust that clung to the air. She needed a drink.

 **A/N: I just finished my finals (which means I'm a senior in college—crazy stuff), so consider this a sort of celebration. It's also the longest chapter yet, even if it's only a few hundred words more.**


	9. Two Roads Diverge

With her job, a routine developed in Katie's life over the course of the next two weeks. She took to visiting Oliver daily, finding time either during lunch or after work each day to stop by St. Mungo's at least for fifteen minutes. More often than not, he was exhausted but grateful for her visits, and oddly enough, she found him to be an excellent listener. Never one for lying around all day, he listened raptly to stories about her day, about Angelina's railings against her auror trainers, about Leanne and Amit's work and a new band they both loved, and occasionally even about Alicia's tales of Quidditch practice, though she was careful in rationing these anecdotes for when he was in a good mood, not when he was moody and unpredictable. She also treaded cautiously in discussing the particulars of her work, not only to preserve confidentiality but also to ensure that he didn't have to know more about his attackers than he wanted. She didn't mind having a friend who wanted to discuss the lighter things in life. As much as she loved Angelina and Alicia, the two of them were both dealing with their own issues. Alicia had still yet to tell anyone besides Katie about Kira, and Angelina, along with Lee, still monitored George's whereabouts as much as possible. Even when she knew George was safe, the continuous stress wore at her nerves and contributed as much as her training to the growing dark circles beneath her eyes.

Leanne still maintained her chipper personality, and she and Katie (and even Amit once) met several times for dinner or drinks. It was a welcome distraction from her investigation into the Five, as she'd begun referring to them. Amit was reticent to talk further with Katie on certain points regarding, and he tried to maintain a certain level of cheer in the conversation. She appreciated the effort, even as he frustrated her with his refusal to answer questions about his time in Russia, but then he offered to connect her with another friend of his, this one working in Romania, and she couldn't feel any resentment toward him, not when he was quickly becoming a friend as well as her most useful source of informants to date.

A letter from Sean on Thursday disrupted the routine. She'd been sorting through letters from various foreign ministry officials—most polite, formulaic rejections of her request for records on the Five—when a small, boreal owl swooped into her office. His handwriting was small, neat and elegant, nothing like his brother's rather haphazard scrawl.

 _Dear Katie,_

 _I hope you've had time to consider the offer of trainee Healer. I understand you've settled into your job with Lee and I have no idea how permanent the position is, but the offer still stands. I return to Romania by the end of the month, and ideally I would have your answer by Monday so that I have adequate time to make the appropriate arrangements. I understand that it is a large decision to make and that you were not necessarily anticipating a career as a Healer, but from what I've observed of you in St. Mungo's, you certainly have the aptitude. The only question is whether or not you would like to accept the offer._

 _If you have any questions, please feel free to owl me at any time. I would love to continue working with you in the future, but if you wish to pursue journalism or any other career path, I will simply wish you the best of luck._

 _Best regards,_

 _Sean_

Shit. She had three days to decide what to do. She needed to talk to someone about this. Sure, she'd been enjoying her job, but as Sean had mentioned, there was no real permanence in it, at least not yet. With that in mind, she made a midmorning trip to Lee's office. She knocked firmly on the door until she heard Lee shout, "Come in!"

When she walked into his office, a smile graced his features, a welcome sight. Angelina wasn't the only one still struggling to protect George.

"Do you have a minute? I don't want to disturb you," she added hastily.

"Certainly. Is this work or personal?" he asked her.

"Both, sort of," she confessed. "I need to ask you a few questions, and I want you to keep in mind that nothing has actually been decided yet."

He raised his eyebrows. "Well, don't keep the suspense up for long. I'm not sure I can bear it."

She ignored his gentle ribbing. "I've been offered a spot as a trainee Healer in Romania, and I'm not sure if I should take it or not. I guess I was hoping you could provide some clarification as to what you're thinking about me and my position on the radio at the moment."

Lee leaned back in his chair. "Well, that's kind of up to you. You've been doing good work so far on investigating the attack on Oliver, but if you're thinking of something more permanent, I'd have to assign you smaller pieces and day to day activities. You could help out Risa or me with some of the other logistical things related to the program."

"Is there an official role? I don't want to just depend on our friendship for a job. I want to make sure I'm not just taking up space."

"You're definitely not," he reassured her. "As for an official role, well, the program is still developing, so I could probably just develop something for you. That being said, I do need to take into account the needs of the office first, so you'd have to devote a significant portion of your time to things other than the long term projects. I already have Risa working full time on research, and she's got years of this sort of work under her belt. I could hardly have her coordinating guest celebrity appearances on my show."

"Of course not," Katie said. "She's amazing, you know. I have no idea how you got her to work for you. I mean, no offense, but she's got twenty years of experience on you."

Lee grinned. "She came to me, actually. She heard Potterwatch early on last year and decided to track me down. It was actually a little terrifying, the way she tracked me down, went through every layer of security I had. Fortunately, she wasn't a Death Eater, just someone who wanted to help. After Voldemort died, she chose to stick with me. I'm eternally grateful, even if I don't fully understand the decision."

Katie nodded. "So if I want to stay, become a real member of the team, I have to start moving beyond this investigation, beyond this project."

"You do. I'm fine to let you keep this up for a couple more months, but eventually my bosses will review my employees and they'll want to know why I've had one person only working on one specific project when everyone else works on several."

Katie took a second to process the information. It was an entirely reasonable proposal—she had initially asked to help Lee in whatever way she could—but it still didn't provide the clarity she sought. Perhaps she needed an outside source of advice, someone unbiased to talk things through. She thanked Lee and was about to head out the door when he called out, "Katie, could you do me a favor?"

"Sure," she responded.

"Could you drop by my flat? George spent the night there, and Charlie was staying as long as he could but he told me he needed to be gone by noon. I can't be back until one, and I think it would be good for someone to be there."

Her heart sank. "What happened?"

"He just had a rough night. Nothing specific, the usual really. I found him at a muggle pub, already smashed and spouting the usual crap. No worse than Saturday, but not great."

"I'll be there," she said sympathetically. "Besides, I actually need to return something to Charlie."

After a quick trip to her flat to retrieve the book, she flooed over to Lee's home. The whole flat was quiet, and the ticking clock provided the only noise her ears detected. Lee cast excellent silencing charms on the walls, preventing any outside noise from entering the room. When she walked into the living room, she found Charlie draped over the couch, eyes closed and body spread haphazardly across the cushions. It was an almost comical sight.

She cleared her throat. "Charlie, you awake?"

He bolted upright, eyes wide and alert within milliseconds of regaining consciousness. "Katie?" he exclaimed in surprise.

"I'm here to relieve you of George-watching duty until Lee can be here." She paused, then added as an afterthought, "I'm also here to return your book. Sorry about that." She held out _Discovery of Dragons_ a little sheepishly.

"I was wondering where that went off to," he said with a bemused expression, taking the book. "I couldn't think of who would have taken it."

"If it's any consolation, I quite enjoyed it. I'm muggleborn so I heard many of these stories as a kid, but really only the Western ones. I never really knew anything about dragons in Chinese folklore, for example. It's strange how their perception of the role of dragons is so different from English conceptions. I mean, I never took Muggle Studies because I'm muggleborn, but it was fascinating to examine how certain aspects of dragons were accurately portrayed throughout history while others were not. I'd never thought of examining how muggles perceive magic."

A broad grin stretched across Charlie's face. "I'm glad you liked it. I agree—it's a captivating topic—but some people find it boring. I mean, people ask, 'why study muggle perceptions of dragons when there are so many inaccuracies?' I think it's an important look at how magic bleeds through into the muggle world."

"Not so much anymore, though," she said.

"True, and that's for the best I'd say. Can you imagine trying to integrate dragons into the muggle world? It would be terrifying, dangerous, stupid. I can't believe there are some people who actually support the idea of muggles knowing about magic. People would want to find dangerous creatures like dragons, and then they'd be killed."

"I hadn't ever thought about it that way before," mused Katie.

"I wrote a whole article on the subject for _Vrajitoreasca Zilnică_ , the, uh Wizarding Daily in Romania. It's like the _Prophet_. If you ever want to read more, I'd be happy to give you a copy of the English version."

"Maybe. I'd definitely want a balanced perspective on the subject matter, but—

She froze abruptly, her brain catching up to her mouth. Charlie looked at her expectantly.

"But what?" he prompted.

She spoke slowly, carefully. "You said you wrote an article that was expressly anti-integration in the Romanian equivalent of _The Daily Prophet_?"

He shrugged. "Yes. I don't normally write articles, but I and the rest of the people on the reservation wanted to respond to some troubling sentiment that's been in the news lately, people not thinking through the full consequences of integrating magic into muggle society. I volunteered to write it, and my friend Ileana knew someone who could get it published."

She was trying to remain calm, to keep her voice steady as she spoke her next words. "Charlie, I don't mean to pry, but how many people know about your relationship with Sean? I promise you, there's a reason I'm asking this question."

Charlie's expression became guarded almost immediately at the mention of Sean. "Out of my family, only my older brother Bill knows, if that's what you're asking. Our close friends in Bucharest know, of course, and I think that Sean's parents have guessed."

She pressed further. "Could someone have found out about you two? A stranger, someone looking for information on you?"

Charlie's brow furrowed, crinkling the scar across his temple. "I suppose so, if you cared to find out. We've been living together for some time, and we don't actively hide our relationship over there. We don't flaunt it, though."

She couldn't wait anymore to tell him. "Charlie, I think that Sean was the target of the attack three weeks ago, not Oliver. I think someone was trying to get to you through Sean because of the article you wrote."

Charlie looked taken aback as he stood up, automatically tensing himself. "What do you mean?"

She shook her head. "It's a long story, but in short, several of the people who attacked Oliver has strong political sympathies for integration movements. Another wizard was Romanian, so he might have read the article you wrote and gathered together some friends to retaliate. Sean and Oliver look similar, especially from far away and in the dark. "

Though he clearly tried to compose himself, Charlie could not contain the intensity of the anger seething in his eyes. "Katie, if someone is targeting people I care about, I need to know more. I need to know everything. How do you know any of this?"

"I don't know anything for certain at the moment," she admitted. "I've been looking into the people who attacked Oliver, the five wizards, and so far I've found out that Kir Firtich, the Russian one, has strong ties to integration movements, and that Lukov and Ratshenko, two Bulgarian wizards, have a history of dark magic. They've been known to practice on muggle in broad daylight, and so it wouldn't surprise me if they were in favor of bringing the magical world into the open, if only for the chance to use muggles openly for experimentation. The one guys I haven't been able to find anything on, that no one seems to know about, is Emil Petrescu, a Romanian wizard. All the others have ties to dark magic or to movements advocating for the removal of the Statute of Secrecy, usually for the wrong reasons too. I haven't been able to make any connection between them and Oliver, so this is my first lead into their motives."

Charlie blinked several times before speaking in a controlled manner, maintaining an impressive semblance of calm given the information she'd just supplied him. "There's are several connections in there that need to be proven, if we're to believe this theory is true. Nothing you said is implausible, however, so I think it's best we act under the assumption that Sean, not Oliver, was being targeted because of me."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to find everything there is to know about Emil Petrescu," he said darkly, and she felt very grateful Charlie Weasley was on her side. "Sean needs to know. He can take care of himself, but there are other precautions we need to take. Mum and dad need to know, and Bill and Fleur, the whole family." He ran a hand through his shaggy red hair distractedly.

"I'll look after George," she reminded him. "You can go, do whatever you need to do."

He shot a grateful look at her. "I feel like I always have to leave whenever I talk to you. I promise, it's not you."

"Maybe I just need to stop meeting you in such strange circumstances," she said.

"Yeah, but what even constitutes normal?" He flashed a crooked grin. "I need to leave. I'll be in touch, one way or another. I need want to know everything you know, but first I need to warn everyone."

He swept out of the room and disapparated with a loud crack outside the flat. She sat down on the couch and sank into its soft cushions. Lee's apartment was tastefully decorated, and she appreciated his choice of furniture. A painting hung on each of the doors to the two connecting bedrooms—the one with witch on a broom marked Lee's room, and the one with a dragon hung on the guest room which George now frequently occupied. As her gaze passed over the door, she noticed a little pink thing at the base of the door, and she narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"George, are those extendable ears? Do you expect me to not recognize those things after all the times you and Fred tried to reach the girl's dormitory at school?"

The little pink lump wiggled its way back underneath the door, confirming her suspicions. If he had been listening to her conversation with Charlie, then she needed to explain a few things to him, so she went over to the door and knocked firmly.

"George, I know you're awake. We need to talk," she said loudly. When he offered no response, she knocked again, this time banging on the door. "George, I will blast this door apart if you don't open up right now. Lee will just take the cost out of my salary."

This time, she heard a small click as the door unlocked, and she opened the door cautiously, unsure of what she would find. When she walked in, she saw George lying on the bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, wand twirling in the air lazily as he shot little sparks out of it. He wore one of the infamous Weasley family jumpers, a green one emblazoned with the letter G.

"I didn't know you and Charlie were pals," said George nonchalantly. "Then again, I also didn't know that he and Wood's brother have been shacking up for years, so…" A small purple firecracker shot out of his wand and crackled in the air, coalescing briefly into the shape of a dragon.

"Well, I can only explain one of those two things. We're not really friends—I've just run into him a few times over the past few weeks, mostly because he's been with Sean who's been with Oliver."

"And you've been with Oliver too," he surmised.

"I've been visiting," she said shortly. "Angelina and Alicia have also dropped by once or twice. I'm sure he'd be happy to see you."

George snorted. "I don't suppose Oliver's every happy about anything unless it's Quidditch-related."

Katie smiled ruefully. "That always helps, but he's…well, he actually does have other interests. Nothing that comes close to Quidditch, sure, but he hasn't minded listening to me blabber on about other things in my life."

"He always had a soft spot for you, Katie," George said with a smirk. "You were the youngest chaser, youngest player besides Harry, and you never went after him like Angelina did. I'm amazed that girl never took off his head."

"She's quite resilient," remarked Katie. "She puts up with a lot, especially from the men in her life."

"Your comment is noted," said George, "but I'm not having this discussion now."

"Fine," said Katie. "Where were you last night?"

"None of your business."

"I'm your friend, George. Can I not ask a simple question?"

"I was in Dublin," he said simply

"And what were you doing in Dublin? Not getting yourself arrested again?"

"No, Katie. I was just talking to some folks, trying to learn some things. A little bit like you these days."

"These people you were talking to, you weren't talking with them about Rookwood, were you?"

George gave an exasperated sigh, as if his patience for this conversation had already been exhausted. "I didn't know you were my mother, Katie. Between Charlie, Lee and Angelina and my actual mum, there really is no end to the people trying to smother me."

"We just care about you George. I care about you too, or I wouldn't be here Merlin knows why Lee puts up with your shit, but it certainly isn't because of your charming personality at the moment."

George flicked his wand, shot out a stream of red and gold sparks. "Since when did you start building up nerve like that? You used to be so sweet."

"Since you started taking lessons in backhanded compliments."

"Touché," he muttered. "I suppose you've always had a bit of nerve."

She didn't know how to respond to that. Instead, she changed the subject again. "You need to be careful, George. I'm not just saying that to nag on you, I mean it. I don't know how much you heard of my conversation with Charlie, but there's a chance he and his family are being targeted. I still don't know anything for certain, but I definitely can't rule it out. Right now, you'd make an easy target."

"I think I can protect myself, Katie," he said a little bitterly. "It's not like the Weasleys have had it easy the last few years. I'm used to looking out for myself."

"Normally, I wouldn't worry, at least not more than usual." She sat down on the bed next to him, and he looked up at her in surprise. "I know you're hurting. We all are. We all lost people last year, friends, family, people you saw everyday. I don't want to lose you too, George. These people, whoever they are, they mean business. Oliver was seriously hurt; he's improved a lot, but he's still in St. Mungo's. It's been hard on him, hard on everyone I know. If someone went after you…"

George was sitting up now, leaning against the pillows set at the head of the bed. He didn't look angry or bitter anymore, just very, very sad. It occurred to her that she hadn't seen him cry since the battle where Fred was killed. Even at the memorial service, he'd sat in silence, face as still as stone.

"I'm sorry, Katie," he said gently, his voice a little rough. "I'm sorry I can't feel the way you want me to feel."

"I'm not asking you to feel a certain way," she said. "I'm just asking you to keep yourself alive. Do you think you can promise me that?"

"I'll try my best," he said quietly.

She pulled him into a hug. He sat stiffly there, but she didn't let go. "That's all I want. No one expects you to be exactly as you were before. We understand that's not really possible at the moment, but we still want to see you. Come over for dinner sometime. Say hi. Alicia hasn't seen you in ages."

George smirked a little, a shadow of his former self flickering across his face. "I thought she and Lee would be too busy thinking about the Gala tomorrow.'

Clearly Lee hadn't told George he was no longer going. She couldn't tell George the truth, not when Alicia still wanted to hide. Still, she didn't want to lie to him fully. "Actually, I'm going with Alicia, not Lee."

George appeared confused. "I always thought…Lee and Alicia, he's liked her for ages."

"I'm not so sure that's going to work out."

"Well, I'm sure you'll have a grand old time. Ginny was quite excited about it, said she already picked out her dress."

"I should hope so," said Katie. "It is tomorrow after all. Merlin only knows what Alicia and Angelina are going to do to me."

"I don't envy you," said George. "Fred told me Angelina spent several hours getting ready before the Yule Ball, and now she's had even more time to practice."

In the end, her worst fears were confirmed. Though the Gala didn't even begin until eight, Angelina showed up at Katie's office at four o'clock armed with a terrifyingly determined expression.

"I am going to make you look beautiful," she said in a threatening voice which really didn't make it sound like Katie had any choice in the matter. Alicia trailed in behind her, trying to appear apologetic but unable to hide the glee from her face. Alicia had her own dressing up to do, but obviously Angelina trusted her more since she wasn't dragged into the bathroom along with a basketful of makeup, potions and hair products. Angelina began rifling through the various vials and tins, muttering to herself under her breath.

"You know," ventured Katie, "I could just…do it myself. I'm not entirely useless."

"Of course," said Angelina dismissively, "but it wouldn't be nearly as good. This is fun for me, Katie. Let me have my fun."

Kate didn't want to deny Angelina her fun, so she simply sat down in the chair Angelina had dragged from the kitchen into the bathroom. She regarded the two bottles Angelina eventually selected with some trepidation. One of them read "Corwinkle's Curling Potion," while another she recognized as Pitterfink's Hair Gel.

Angelina held out the two bottles seriously, looking at Katie with a mad gleam that, disturbingly enough, echoed Oliver Wood. "Your hair is different from mine and Alicia's, but no worries. I've worked with hair like this before."

"If my hair is still attached to my head at the end, I will consider this a success," said Katie.

"Hmm," hummed Angelina, and she went to work. First, she pulled out a large brush and ran it through Katie's hair more than Katie felt was strictly necessary, pulling every little knot loose. Then she applied a dab of the hair gel and a much larger heap of curling potion. The liquid felt greasy and oily on her hair, but Angelina assured her that was normal. When Angelina held out her wand, tip glowing red with heat, Katie nearly bolted.

"What are you doing?" she shrieked.

"Curling your hair," said Angelina, as if that were obvious.

"There are curling irons for that, you know. Things that are more temperature controlled so you don't light my hair on fire," said Katie.

"Hush," said Angelina. "I did quite well in charms, I'll have you know."

In the end, Angelina only slightly scorched Katie's hair. To fix this, she applied a layer of hair repair potion that made her whole head feel oddly cool. Angelina pulled, tugged and forced Katie's hair into position, at which point she added an excessive amount of hair gel and waved her wand several times over the whole arrangement in order to maintain its shape. Kate wondered half-heartedly whether any of this would come out in the shower tonight. Probably not.

"Alright," said Angelina cheerfully. "Time for your makeup."

"Again, I must insist that I can do this myself," said Katie.

"And I already told you, don't deny me my fun." Angelina's smile was blinding. Katie hadn't seen her so happy in months, so she sighed and resigned herself to her friend's ministrations.

All told, Katie spent more than two hours locked in the bathroom. Alicia popped her head in at one point to check on the two of them and smiled when Katie glowered at her. She promised Katie she had cooked some chicken for dinner, but Katie had begun to doubt she would be allowed to eat dinner. At last, Angelina released her from the chair, and even Katie had to admit she looked more glamorous as she ever had.

"No one will recognize me," said Katie, eyeing herself in the mirror. "Even if I do meet people I know, they won't believe it's me."

"Nonsense," said Angelina smugly. "They'll see you, and everyone is going to fall over themselves to dance with you. This is your chance to snag a hot Quidditch player."

"Oh yes," said Katie sarcastically. "You know me so well. All I want from life is a hot Quidditch player."

"I'm just saying," said Angelina defensively, "don't underestimate yourself."

Katie rolled her eyes, but gave Angelina a quick hug. "Thanks, Ange. It looks great, it really does."

"Oh I know," said Angelina, grinning. "Now go eat your dinner quickly so we can get you in your dress."

Alicia emerged around seven thirty, looking gorgeous in her skintight scarlet dress. Her hazel-colored skin practically glowed. She exuded anticipation and excitement, and Katie knew she had made the right choice in helping Alicia to spend the evening with Kira. Angelina surveyed them both, deemed Alicia beautiful and Katie "her finest work" and sent them both on their merry way. Their invitations acted as portkeys, so the two of them gripped the invitation as the clock struck seven forty-five and sent them both whirring away from the apartment to the blinding lights and the glitz and glamor of the Gala.

 **A/N: Sorry for the delay in updates. Believe it or not, I actually became busier after finals ended, and I no longer had to procrastinate on my work by writing this (it's amazing how much easier it is to write this when I should be writing something else). Next chapter should be up sooner, since I've already written about half of it.**


	10. The Gala

The portkey dropped them in the foyer of what appeared to be a large mansion. Katie stumbled, tripping over her high heels and long dress until Alicia caught her. Several other couples were also appearing around them, all impeccably dressed and landing gracefully in the room. Katie gazed in wonder at room around her—high ceiling, chandelier, a massive marble fountain springing from the ground—it reminded her of a smaller, posher Hogwarts. Everything about the space oozed wealth and opulence.

"Where exactly are we?" muttered Katie quietly to Alicia.

"The Quidditch Commissioner's house. Her estate is so large she has a full ballroom and a dozen sitting rooms for socializing. The event's been hosted here for years."

The idea of one person having this much wealth awed Katie. Sure, she knew that certain families like the Malfoys were incredibly affluent, but she'd grown up working-class in a small town in the north of England and she'd never been to a private home this opulent before. If Quidditch was this lucrative, then any guilt she felt over Kira paying for her dress instantaneously dissipated. Some of her amazement must have shown on her face, because Alicia chuckled.

"Still sure you don't want to try to be a Quidditch player?" she asked, nudging Katie in the ribs

"I don't know, Alicia," she said. "This is pretty incredible."

Alicia grinned and led them out of the foyer and down a hallway. Several on-duty aurors checked their ticket and performed a quick scan for dark objects before allowing them to enter. Katie noticed that while several reporters with cameras stood around the foyer, none were allowed past the aurors, creating some sense of privacy. They continued down the hallway which opened into a ballroom only slightly smaller than the Great Hall of Hogwarts. Despite the summer heat, ice sculptures adorned all of the tables placed on the sides. Platters of hors d'oeuvres lay along the long tables on the far left side, and at the end of the massive room, she saw the drink table, complete with a champagne fountain and a host of bartenders waiting to serve the guests. The ballroom itself was grand—marbled floor, paintings of famous witches and wizards hanging on the walls, chandeliers and streamers dangling from the ceilings—and Katie suddenly felt very small and very out of place.

"Mara! Dave!" Alicia called over to several of her friends who had already arrived. She dragged Katie over to make introductions, and Katie suddenly realized that these two people were Mara Orkney and David Lance, two prominent veteran Quidditch players. David had played as a beater for the Tornadoes for years before becoming a coach, while Mara, his wife, currently played seeker for the Holyhead Harpies. Katie stammered as she spoke, trying not to make a complete fool of herself in front of two such celebrated Quidditch players. Fortunately, they both seemed down to earth.

"Alicia tells me you used to play for Gryffindor at school, is that right?" asked Mara.

"Yes, I did. Chaser, along with Alicia."

"We usually scout all the seventh year players in the spring," said Dave, frowning slightly. "I don't remember you."

"Katie was in St. Mungo's," interjected Alicia quickly. "A Death Eater imperiused her, gave her a cursed necklace that she touched. You probably just missed her."

"Oh my!" exclaimed Mara. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," said Katie, plastering a smile on her face. "I'm fully recovered now." She wished Alicia wouldn't casually mention the incident like that, but Alicia seemed oblivious to Katie's discomfort.

Alicia, Mara and Dave continued their small talk while Katie stood awkwardly by Alicia's side. Many other familiar faces passed by, some Katie recognized as players from reading _Quidditch Weekly_ , while others she knew as politicians, musicians or other prominent figures. Eventually, Mara and Dave left, leaving Alicia and Katie temporarily alone. Katie was about to speak when Alicia spotted two other friends of hers. "Isabelle! Fernando!" she called out, and Katie was then swept away into another round of small talk, this time with Isabelle Wichter and Fernando Rodriguez, keeper and chaser respectively for the Leicester Manticores.

As Alicia cycled through introductions with all of her friends, Katie quickly learned two things: one, that Quidditch players appeared to date each other more often than not, drastically diminishing her chance of finding an attractive, single Quidditch player and fulfilling Angelina's hopes; and two, that she was hopelessly pop-culturally ignorant. Alicia pointed out various celebrities—singers, players, authors—and Katie only recognized half of them at most. Never a pop-culture aficionado, Katie found her knowledge base had diminished during her time in hiding. People had disappeared during Voldemort's reign, but others had quickly replaced them.

After more than half an hour of flitting from couple to couple, group to group, Kira found them, or rather, Kira found Alicia. The two embraced for a long time while Katie looked on, happy for them but unsure of how to respond. Eventually, they broke apart and Kira greeted Katie.

"Oh, you look like a dream, Katie," gushed Kira.

Katie blushed, feeling very much like an awkward bowtruckle next to Kira, who was easily one of the most elegantly, fashionably dressed people at the Gala. Her strawberry-blonde hair floated around her face, framing it perfectly, and she wore one of the color-changing dresses that Katie had seen in Gloria's Gowns. Every time Alicia brushed the fabric, the emerald cloth rippled and shimmered with different shades of green. She managed to mumble out a quick, "You look lovely too," beneath the blinding glare of Kira's smile.

Alicia wrapped an arm around Kira's waist, face bright and glowing with happiness. "Katie, would you mind if Kira and I spoke in private for a bit?" Kira leaned her head on Alicia's shoulder, and their sheer bliss overwhelmed Katie.

"Sure," agreed Katie.

"Wonderful. I'll find you later," said Alicia, and she and Kira walked away towards one of the sitting rooms, Alicia's arm still on Kira's waist.

Now alone, Katie wandered over to the drink table. All drinks were free, but a quick glance at the menu told her she didn't even recognize most of the names. In the end, she ordered a strange cocktail, unsure of what to expect, and the bartender brought out a glass containing a fizzing, sparkling, electric blue liquid. A spark flew out of it, and Katie jumped back in alarm, spilling several drops over her hands.

"Watch yourself, Bell. I thought you just drank beer and firewhiskey."

Katie whipped around to see Amit leaning against the table casually. She almost didn't recognize him without his characteristic band t-shirt and jeans, but it was still him beneath the fancy black dress-robes and carefully coiffed hair.

"Amit!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Your deductive skills are astounding. I was invited, of course."

"Of course," she said, a little nonplussed. "I had no idea you were coming. Who are you with here?"

"An old friend of mine," he smiled at her. "She's off talking to the prime minister of Belgium right now, left me all alone, so I thought I would seek out new friends. I almost didn't recognize you beneath all the hair product."

Katie sighed. "Angelina's doing, not mine. She didn't give me much choice in the matter."

"Those are the best sorts of friends aren't they? The ones who know better than you?"

"I'm sure you think so. You're not exactly the humblest person in the room."

Amit held a hand to his heart in mock pain. "You wound me, Katie, you really do. I'll have you know that my ego is probably one of the smallest in the room. All these people, they didn't get here by thinking other people were more qualified for their jobs. The people you perceive as polite just hide their ambitions better than everyone else."

"You're in a cynical mood tonight," she remarked.

"I just don't feel like hiding it for once. Normally I can out-charm anyone else here" he countered. "One firewhiskey, neat," he told the bartender.

"Are you sure your ego doesn't belong here as well?" she asked him.

"I'd like to think so, but I suppose I'm not the best judge. I'm only here because I'm owed a rather large favor by a very important person, and he lets me come to this Gala as thanks. Music journalists usually don't make the cut for the guest list."

"Neither do people like me," said Katie.

Amit took his glass of firewhiskey from the bartender and clinked it against her cocktail. "I'll drink to that."

They each took a sip from their glasses. The blue fizzy drink burned slightly as it slid down her throat, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. Amit appeared unfazed by the scorching feeling that accompanies firewhiskey.

"Seriously, who are you with?" asked Amit. "No offense, but he's probably more important than you are to be invited here."

"She," said Katie pointedly, "is a Quidditch player. Alicia Spinnet, chaser for the Tornadoes."

Amit sipped his drink thoughtfully. "I hope you're not actually on a date, because if so, you might want to observe what she and a certain Ms. Hapley are up to in one of the sitting rooms. It's not especially subtle."

This information surprised Katie. "They're not being subtle about it? The entire point of me coming here was to allow Alicia to avoid telling anyone."

Amit chuckled to himself. "Well, fortunately there aren't any active reporters allowed in on this event. They just need to beware the power of word of mouth after the fact. Were I working for one of those gossip rags, I would be a very happy employee tonight."

Katie frowned and began to respond when suddenly a woman bumped into Amit, causing him to slosh his drink all over the front of his dress robes.

"Shit," he muttered, surveying the damage. He began pulling items from his pocket: a notebook, a quill, a silver flask. Katie cast a quick drying charm over his robe and his possessions, and Amit smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

"I'm so sorry," said the figure who'd bumped into him. "Let me just get you a new drink." Kate immediately recognized the voice.

"Hestia! I didn't expect to see you here!"

"Katie?" said Hestia Jones in surprise. "Same goes for you. How have you been?"

"I've been well, thank you. You were an immense help to me, and I've been making good progress."

Hestia glanced around the room nervously. "I'm glad to hear it, but I would prefer it if you didn't talk about it in public, especially once my date comes back."

"Who's your date?" asked Amit curiously.

Hestia blushed, her pale cheeks turning rosy. She muttered something that neither Katie nor Amit could hear.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," said Katie.

"Kingsley," muttered Hestia slightly louder, and Amit whistled.

"Your date is with the Minister of Magic?" asked Katie incredulously.

"It's hardly a date," said Hestia, though her blush remained. "We just became friendly while I was in the Order, and he's asked me to lunch a couple of times."

"And then to one of the biggest social events of the year. That's not nothing." Noted Katie.

"Yes, well, I would appreciate it if you didn't mention what I did for you," reminded Hestia.

"Of course," said Katie. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"Well, good, because he's coming over right now."

Katie barely had time to compose herself before Kinglsey Shacklebolt, the legendary auror and current Minister of Magic strode over with a casual grace that reminded Katie of a large cat. While most wizards in the room wore black dress robes, Kingsley's robes were a deep shade of purple, darker than her dress but still unmistakably purple. He also towered a full head above Hestia and Katie, while even Amit appeared diminished in Kingsley's presence. One gold hoop hung from his right earlobe and his bald head shone in the light. He placed a light kiss on Hestia's cheek once he arrived.

"Kingsley, this Katie Bell…and I'm so sorry, but what was your name?" said Hestia, gesturing to Amit.

"Mr. Khan," said Kinsley in a deep, powerful voice. "It is good to see you again."

"Likewise, Minister," said Amit. Kingsley held out a hand and they shook formally. Kingsley then turned to Katie.

"Ms. Bell, I believe you assisted the Order several times last year. Is that correct?" he said, his dark eyes peering into her.

"Yes," she said, attempting to maintain a calm façade. Here she was talking with the Minister of Magic, and he remembered her? This was certainly more than she had anticipated. "It wasn't anything too impressive, though."

Kingsley narrowed his eyes at her. "Any work that endangers your life is not unimpressive."

Katie didn't know how to respond, so she simply smiled at him, hoping the conversation would turn elsewhere. She nudged Amit in the ribs, hoping he would jump in for her, prevent her from having to continue small-talking with the minister of magic. Fortunately, Hestia cut in, saving both her and Amit.

"How long have you two been together?" she asked, looking at the two of them.

Katie let out a bark of laugh in surprise. "Oh, we're…we're not together. Amit is a friend, and I just ran into him here."

Hestia furrowed her brow. "Are you here with Oliver Wood then? I know you two are friends."

Katie didn't bother hiding her shock. "Oliver? He's here?"

"Well of course," said Hestia. "I assumed you knew."

"I didn't even know he was out of the hospital. I just visited him yesterday," said Katie, running her fingers through her hair distractedly. Oliver was here? Of course, he was a Quidditch player, one of the best, and he had every right to be here, but it stung that he hadn't told her he would be coming. "I can't believe he didn't mention he was coming tonight."

Amit placed a hand on her shoulder. "Why don't you go find him? I can handle myself here."

She smiled gratefully at him. "Thanks. Excuse me, Hestia, Minister," she said, nodding at each of them in turn. She set off around the ballroom, eyes scanning the room for familiar faces. It would have been easier to spot him if he were a Weasley with bright red hair. Unfortunately, Oliver's hair was brown, just like the majority of the wizards in the room. At this point in the night, the band was playing gentle waltzing music, and dozens of couples danced around the floor. Even more people stood around the edges of the dance floor, while others sat on chairs lining the walls. Even if Oliver were out of the hospital, he certainly wasn't fully healed, so she began searching along the edge of the ballroom, along the chairs and tables situated around the actual dance floor. After several minutes of searching, she spotted not him but a pair of crutches leaning against a table.

She approached the table from behind, and his head came into view as she neared. He wore a simple, elegant set of dress robes and he appeared to have actually attempted to comb his hair. Amongst a sea of grandeur and excess, he seemed rather ordinary, familiar.

"I didn't know you were going to be here," she said from behind him.

He whipped around in surprise. When he saw her, his eyes widened and he tripped over whatever words he intended to say. "Katie…I…uh, I didn't….hello," he finally managed to spit out.

"I saw you yesterday. You didn't bother to mention you were being released?" she asked skeptically.

"I'm not, actually," he told her. "I managed to convince them to let me have a night away from the hospital. It took some convincing, but they actually seemed quite glad to be rid of me in the end. Apparently I can be, well…"

"A bit of a grouch?" supplied Katie. Oliver grimaced, but didn't disagree. "Oliver, you know I care about you, but you don't always make it easy."

"Whatever," he said. "I'm here. Sean's with me, of course, that was part of the deal, that I have a healer with me. He's off talking with the head of St. Mungo's right now, catching up or something like that. He might as well have some fun, because I can't drink anything or dance. Honestly, I'm not even sure why I bothered."

"I didn't know you could dance to begin with," said Katie wryly.

Oliver glared at her, but his expression softened quickly. "You've never seen me dance," he told her.

"I don't think I have to," she replied. "You may be coordinated in the air, but dancing is more about an attitude. You have to relax."

"I can relax," he said indignantly, and she burst out laughing. "What? I can!"

"Just like you're doing right now?" she said snidely. He didn't dignify her question with a response, so she continued. "Come on, Oliver. You're surrounded by the most celebrated witches and wizards in England right now. Everyone here is beautiful, everyone here is having a good time, and you're going to sit here sulking?"

She sat next to him at one of the empty chairs and placed her drink on the table. Several couples whirled by them on the dance floor, dress robes flowing lightly in the air. She recognize someone a man as the head of the Department of Muggle Relations, another woman as a chaser for either the Chudley Cannons or the Glenville Hippogriffs, she couldn't remember which.

"I never wanted to be a Quidditch player for the fame," he said, breaking the lull in conversation. "I always loved Quidditch, from the moment I first saw a broom and a quaffle. Even if they payed me nothing, I would play"

"I know, Oliver," she said. "Believe me, I don't need further convincing that you love Quidditch for its own sake."

He shook his head. "I know that, but you're missing the point. All these famous ministers and musicians, celebrities and other Quidditch players, they don't matter to me. Sure, my teammates and opponents do, but we could just as easily be in a bar, having a few pints after practice, and I'd be having just as much fun."

"Then why did you come? You had to fight to get here after all."

"This might be the last one I'm invited to," he said glumly. "Who knows what shape I'll be in next year? If I can't play, then I'm not sure what I'll do."

"If you can't play, you'll figure out something."

"That's what Sean says," said Oliver, rolling his eyes. "He wants me to come with him to Romania for a while, to get away while I rehabilitate. I'm not sure what I would do, seeing as the only two people I know there are Sean and Charlie, and they both have their own lives."

Katie took a deep breath before saying, "You could spend time with me."

Oliver face scrunched up in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Was this how she committed herself to healer training? Did she just decide to leave England almost on a whim? She spoke disbelievingly, her mind still whirring rapidly. "Sean offered me a spot as a healer trainee with his hospital in Romania. I figure I might try it out for a while, see how it goes."

His puzzled expression didn't fade. "I thought you had a job."

"I do, and I think I'll be able to work at it on the side," she said. She really was making things up as she progressed, but it began to sound more believable as she spoke. "I might actually be able to do more work in Romania, given that one of the wizards I'm investigating is Romanian. It would be a chance to try a new place, a new profession. I've enjoyed my job at the radio so far, but if I want to stay full time, I have to start being a real reporter, someone who does more day to day things for Lee and Risa. I'm not sure how I feel about being a real journalist."

"Where would you stay?" said Oliver.

"Sean said he'd figure it out."

"And Angelina? Alicia? Leanne? What about them?" he asked.

"We'd keep in touch. I'd visit often, they could visit me. I'd already have at least one good friend already there, so it wouldn't be so bad."

"You mean Sean?" he said.

"No, you idiot," she said, sighing softly. "I mean you. You're my friend."

A genuine smile crossed his face. "I suppose I am."

What a weird man Oliver Wood was. "Someone needs to be there to make you have some fun every now and again."

He raised his eyebrows skeptically. "And you think you're the person to do it."

"I know I am," she said. She stood up and held out her hand. "For example, right now, I am asking you to have fun by dancing with me."

He looked incredulously at her. "You're asking me to dance? We've already established I can't do that."

"I'm not expecting you to do it well, all things considered. I'm just asking you to get up and sway from side to side in time with the music. Just play along."

Oliver considered her offer, then frowned. "Isn't it traditional for the man to ask a lady to dance?"

She felt her cheeks redden in annoyance. "If you think for one second that I care about that bull—

Oliver held up his hands in defense, slightly alarmed. "I was joking, Kates. Joking. It's a joke."

She deflated, but still glared at him. "I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Humor doesn't suit you, Wood. Now get up." He reached for his crutches, but she brushed his hands away. "You can lean on me. I know you can bear at least a little weight on your leg." She stretched out her hand again.

He hesitated, but in the end he grabbed it and pulled himself to his feet, stumbling. He nearly fell on top her but she caught him and held his shoulders steady, providing much needed support. After several seconds of wavering, he stabilized himself and managed to wrap an arm around her shoulders. She led him with hobbling steps onto the edge of the dance floor where more adept dancers could avoid them if they wished. Then she spun him around so he was facing her directly, her eyes just below the level of his nose.

"You doing okay?" she asked him, eyeing his right leg which he held stiffly at his side. She noticed he still wore his brace beneath the dress robes.

"I'll be fine," he assured her. "It's your feet we should watch out for."

She chuckled softly. "Look at you, getting the hang of this joking business."

He smiled, but didn't say anything more, just focused on maintaining his balance. The last song ended, and a new one began. It took her a few moments to recognize it as Celestina Warbeck's "Full Moon Just For You." Just perfect, she thought to herself. A romantic ballad, and a Celestina Warbeck one at that.

Either Oliver didn't recognize the song or he didn't mind its connotations because he make no remark as all around the ballroom, couples began slow-dancing, holding each other close and swaying gently. She pulled him closer to her, allowed his hands to travel down to her waist as hers moved up to his shoulders. This close to each other, she had to look up in order to see his face. When she did, she laughed internally at the concentration-filled expression he wore.

They were halfway through the song when Katie felt the need to begin their conversation again. "If you've been here before, did you have a good time in previous years?" she asked him.

"Last year was fun, I suppose," he said thoughtfully. "I was here with Suki, a woman I'd been on a few dates with. Wesley, who's a teammate and friend of mine, set me up with her, and we got along alright. It didn't last much longer after the Gala, though. She didn't like my schedule and thought I talked about Quidditch too much."

"You do talk about Quidditch too much," said Katie. "I think you've improved, though. It's much better than when we were in school."

"Lots of things are different than when we were in school," he said,

"Different, yes," she agreed. "Some better, some worse. I'm a little surprised they were able to hold this event so soon after Voldemort died."

Oliver frowned. "Life goes on, I suppose. Things change, and the rest want to move on as quickly as possible. If they can," he added grimly.

"If they can," she said. They swayed together as the song drew to a close. "Everyone who survived—I think they move on. It might be different, but we still have a life. We all do, everyone who lived."

The song ended, but neither she nor Oliver made any motion to return to the table. When the band began playing a new tune, they stood on the edge of the dance floor, holding onto each other, him for support, her for the warmth of a friend who somehow felt both familiar and new.

"Romania is going to be different," she said.

"Different," he repeated. "Certainly different."

"We're not running away. I'm going for work, and you're going for rehabilitation. We'll come back, and our friends will still be here. Maybe they'll have moved on too," she said, thinking primarily of George.

"Maybe," he said. He gazed directly into her eyes. "By the way, I don't think I told you yet, but you look lovely tonight. I've never seen you wear anything like this dress before."

"That's because I usually don't," she said. "Some things do change for the better, perhaps."

Neither of them spoke any further. They simply danced as the band played on, and a strange, warm sense of comfort overcame her for the first time all night. Something about old school friends, she supposed, but thought nothing more of it.

 **A/N: I'm happy I finally got to this scene. I'd had this in mind from the beginning, so it was nice to finally have the chance to write it out. The story continues as always. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, as it really does mean a lot.**


	11. The Tipping Point

Oliver, accompanied by Sean, left the gala early, claiming Healer Mayweather had ordered him to return by ten o'clock sharp. Katie didn't protest; she'd seen the way he still winced whenever he placed anything more than slight pressure on his leg and how pressing against certain spots on his torso elicited a small hiss of pain. He'd stretched his limits significantly by coming to the gala, and she didn't want to hurt him further. Once he left, she sought out either Amit or Alicia but actually found Kira first, or rather, Kira found her.

"So," said Kira, sidling up to her casually, "you and Wood are good friends then, huh?"

Katie rolled her eyes. "We were teammates at school, and now we're friends. I've been visiting him while he's been in St. Mungo's, and I didn't even know he was going to be here tonight."

This clearly wasn't the answer Kira had been hoping for, but she hid her disappointment quickly. Instead, she opted for a new channel of discussion. "What even happened to him? We were told at first that he was sick, then that there had been an accident and he wouldn't be returning for the rest of the season. Some people from the team have visited a few times, but I barely knew him. We were only teammates for a few months, and he's not the most outgoing person."

"No, he's not," agreed Katie. "He prefers to maintain privacy, especially regarding personal information." Katie looked around the room, assessing her surroundings before speaking in a low voice. "I'm telling you this because Alicia is my friend and I trust you can keep a secret." Kira nodded fervently. "Oliver was attacked by several wizards, and until the investigation has been completed, the true nature of what happened to him is being kept quiet."

Kira clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh Merlin! That's terrible!" she exclaimed. "What…I mean, is he going to recover fully?"

Katie shook her head. "It's unclear, but he's made good progress so far according to the healers. They landed some pretty nasty curses on him which made healing more difficult, but he told me he's supposed to be released sometime next week."

Kira nodded solemnly, but horror still tinged her expression. "I can't believe…Alicia never mentioned…"

"Like I said, it's being kept quiet. Alicia knows what happened, but nobody is spreading it around. I feel fine telling you because if Alicia trusts you, I trust you, and I know Oliver trusts me. Besides, it's a part of my job for now. I've been looking into the attack."

"You're being careful, then?" said Kira worriedly. Her concern touched Katie, who other than during her first encounter with Igor, hadn't felt much fear for her own safety. Nothing now compared to how it had been last year.

"Don't worry, I'm being careful. If I'm not, I have friends who are on my case immediately."

"Well, good," said Kira. "I'm glad to hear that." She hesitated before speaking again. "I also wanted to ask you a question, and I hope you won't take this the wrong way."

Suspicion coiled in the pit of Katie's stomach, but she said, "Fire away."

Kira fidgeted with the hem of her dress and her eyes slid from side to side. "Do you think…do you think Alicia is going to be ready to tell people soon?"

Oh. A pit replaced the suspicion in her stomach. "I think that's a question for Alicia."

Kira sighed. "I know, I know. I thought, maybe since you're her friend and the only one who knows about us, she might have confided something in you. I don't want to pressure her, but it's hard to hide. I don't know what she's afraid of. Plenty of Quidditch players are gay. Gwenog Jones has been with women before, publically too."

Katie placed a hand on Kira's elbow and gently guided her to a secluded area in the corner of the ballroom. She too assessed her surroundings before speaking any further. Only a rather portly gentleman with a monocle sat nearby, and his gentle snores convinced Katie he posed no threat to their privacy.

Katie looked at Kira—Merlin, she was unfairly gorgeous—and said evenly, "I don't know more than you do, Kira. She's mentioned you several times to me, and Angelina thinks you two are good friends. My friend Amit mentioned that he noticed you two weren't being particularly 'subtle,' in his words, not mine, but I think he's an especially perceptive person, so make of that what you will."

This information didn't seem to assuage any of Kira's worries, but she conjured up a smile nonetheless. "She did seem looser tonight. I think she almost cares less about people she doesn't know. What does that even mean?"

Katie shrugged uneasily, unsure of how to respond. She was saved from responding by the arrival of Amit, who had spotted her in the corner. He swept over to her and pulled her into a half hug.

"You seemed uncomfortable," he murmured into her ear.

"Thanks," she responded in a low voice, then turned to Kira. "Kira, this is my friend Amit Khan, a journalist at _Wizard Sense_. Amit, this is Kira Hapley, chaser for Puddlemere."

Amit shook her hand, smiling pleasantly, but Kira squinted at him, trying to puzzle something out.

"Didn't you write for _Magic International_ before? I seem to recall your name in connection with a piece on—what was it?—the rise of illegal magical beast trading? Is that right?"

Amit regarded her appraisingly. "I'm impressed. That was several years ago, and I wouldn't expect anyone outside of the field to remember it."

"Oh no, it was an excellent piece, and I read every copy of _Magic International_ cover to cover. I haven't seen you write anything there recently, though. Isn't _Wizard Sense_ more of a cultural publication? There's not much in the way of politics."

"I switched over a couple of years back. I write about music now, mostly wizarding artists who are adopting more sophisticated muggle technology into their work."

"Like the Talking Banshees? They're wonderful."

Amit appeared even more impressed. "Yes, they are. I found their work when I was in school, tried to find ways to electronically play their music within Hogwarts but nearly blew something up trying to fiddle with the equipment."

Realization dawned on Kira's face. "You were that guy who nearly blew up the Slytherin common room, aren't you? I was just a second year, but someone swore you could feel the blast even in Ravenclaw tower. They were lying, of course. I was there, and you couldn't."

Amit grinned ruefully. "Not my finest hour, but not my worst either, if you can believe it or not. You know, Kira, if you ever decide Quidditch just isn't for you, come find me. Anyone who likes the Talking Banshees would probably do well at _Wizard Sense_."

Kira waved a hand. "I doubt I'll tire of playing Quidditch, but thank you for the offer. Oh, look there's Alicia. Alicia!" She gestured for Alicia to come over to them, and soon Alicia joined the three of them. The conversation soon devolved into a discussion over some of the newer faces at the gala, people who had been rapidly promoted in order to fill the voids left by deaths, disappearances or firings from the previous years. Both Kira and Amit were extremely well informed, Katie slightly less so, and Alicia simply nodded along with Kira. She'd never expressed any remote interest in politics beyond her support of the DA, but she remained quiet and contented herself with watching Kira. While she displayed some physical affection towards her girlfriend, her expression spoke loudest as her clear adoration poured through. Unsubtle indeed.

As the gala ended drew to a close near midnight, Katie and Alicia bade farewell to their friends and apparated back to the flat. Katie's eyes were drooping and her limbs weighed as much as several bludgers, but before she could slip into her bed, Alicia accosted her in the living room.

"Katie, will you be there when I tell Angelina?" she asked,

"About Kira? If you'd like me to be, I'm all yours Alicia," said Katie.

Alicia gave her a quick hug. "Thanks, Katie. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Katie's heart sank a little. "Actually, Alicia, there's something I need to tell you too."

Alicia looked surprised, but she simply said, "Go ahead."

"I'm, uh, I'm moving to Romania. To be a healer. I'm pretty sure about this, at least I told Oliver I would be going there."

Alicia, who'd been in the middle of removing her shoes, froze. "You're taking Sean's offer?"

"I think so," said Katie.

Alicia removed her other shoe, stretching out her toes gratefully. "Is there any reasoning behind this decision? Why now? Are you sure you want to be a healer?"

Katie saw no reason to lie, so she spoke honestly. "It will be a change, but I figure, why shouldn't I try something completely new. Healing, it could be fascinating, and I always loved potions, even with Snape as the Professor. Besides, if I were in Romania, I could also work on the side at investigating Emil Petrescu, this mysterious Romanian man who's probably the reason Oliver was targeted in the first place."

Alicia gave her an unreadable look. "Romania is far away. I know you'll visit, but it's not like Ireland or Scotland or even France. It will be different."

"Different isn't always worse," replied Katie. "Things are already different. I have my job with Lee, but other than that, it's all sort of a blank slate. Now's my chance to do something crazy, something a little reckless and unfamiliar. If I can work in Romania and determine who these people are who targeted Oliver, then I think this is the right thing to do."

"If you say so," said Alicia. "I hope this decision wasn't too impulsive."

Katie thought back to the moment of her decision. Impulsive was an accurate description, but she didn't want to tell Alicia that. Instead, she said, "I've been thinking pretty hard about it. Besides, if I don't like it, I can always come back here, right?"

Alicia narrowed her eyes. "Is this because we started charging you rent? Because you're definitely going to have to pay rent in Romania as well."

"I'm not that petty," said Katie, "although it does make my decision easier."

Alicia nodded. "We'll talk in the morning. You, me, Angelina, we're going to have a serious chat, about everything. Right now, you're about to pass out, so let's get you to bed."

Katie gladly obeyed, and within seconds of her head hitting the pillows, she was asleep.

The next morning, Katie woke up with a slight headache and a very dry mouth. She rolled out of bed and into the kitchen to grab a glass of water and found both Angelina and Alicia sitting at the table, talking quietly amongst themselves. They appeared not to notice her, so she filled a glass with water before heading over to them. As she sat down, they both looked up.

"Ah, perfect," said Angelina. "Alicia said you two needed to talk to me about something." She seemed blithely unconcerned about their conversation as she sipped at her coffee. "I also want to hear about last night."

Katie glanced at Alicia, who nodded curtly. Alicia would begin.

"Actually, it's about last night. There's something I need to tell you," said Alicia.

"You already told me that," said Angelina. "Just spit it out already."

Alicia took a deep breath. "Well, you know how I sort of uninvited Lee and took Katie instead?" Angelina nodded. "I did that…well, I did that because I didn't want to hurt Lee or string him along. It's not that I don't like him as a friend or anything, but there's no way in which we ever get together."

Angelina furrowed her brow. "Is this what you sat me down to tell me? I don't care if you don't want to sleep with Lee or not."

Alicia sighed. "There's a bit more to it." She looked to Katie for encouragement, and Katie grabbed her hand under the table and squeezed it reassuringly. "The reason that I will never want to be with Lee is that I will never be with any guy."

"Is this some sort of vow of chastity?" said Angelina. "Because I don't see it somehow."

"Quite the opposite," said Alicia. "I have actually been seeing someone. Her name is Kira."

"Her?" repeated Angelina. "You're saying you're dating a girl?"

"Yes," said Alicia. "That's exactly what I'm saying. We've been seeing each other for several months now."

Angelina was quiet for a long minute. Then she turned to Katie. "Did you know?" she asked her.

"I found out less than a month ago," said Katie. "She didn't actually tell me, I just walked in on her and Kira."

Angelina nodded thoughtfully. Suddenly, she yelled, "What the bloody hell, Alicia?"

Alicia cowered beneath Angelina's anger, but spoke in a firm voice nonetheless. "I'm sorry if this upsets you, but I'm not breaking up with her."

Angelina stood up and slammed her hands on the table. "What the—is that why you didn't tell me? You thought I wouldn't like it?" Alicia mumbled something inaudibly, face downcast. "Alicia, I don't care if you're fucking Lee or Kira. What I care about is that you tell me! You know everything there is to know about my time with Fred and that hookup with Roger Davies and every last detail about every relationship I've ever had. I tell you everything, and I thought you did too. Now you sit here saying you've been seeing someone for months and hiding it from me? Did you really think I would, I don't know, cast you out or something just because you're dating a chick?"

"I didn't know what to think," whispered Alicia. "It's all so new to me, these feelings and Kira. I always assumed everyone just sort of went along for the ride with guys, you know. I didn't realize something was missing until I was with Kira, and then everything felt so…wonderful."

Angelina seemed pained as she spoke. "You should have talked to me, Leesh. I don't know exactly how I would have helped, but that's what friends do. We talk about our feelings—about boys and girls and parents and friends. You've been my best friend since day one. Why did you think anything would change that?"

Alicia gulped. "I'm sorry, Ange. I really am."

Angelina closed her eyes. When she opened them, she looked at Katie. "And you? What do you need to talk to me about? Are you also hiding some secret relationship I don't know about?" Bitterness tinged every word.

"Nothing like that," said Katie. "I just decided last night, well, you remember how Oliver's brother offered me a spot as a trainee healer in Romania?" Angelina nodded. "I'm taking it. I'm moving to Romania, at least for a year or so for the beginning of my training."

At first Angelina seemed rather blasé about the revelation. "So that's it? That's all you have to tell me?"

"Well, sure," said Katie. "I thought that was plenty of news for one day."

"Of course. One of my best friends is moving to Romania to become a healer, despite the fact that she already has a good job here, despite the fact that St. Mungo's has an amazing training program here if you really do want to become a healer. You're just going to up and leave like it's no big deal, maybe come back in a year." The pitch of Angelina's voice rose considerably at the end.

"Ange, it's not like that. Sean is offering me a spot in his hospital, an apprenticeship with him of sorts. If I wanted to train in England, I'd have to go through a long application process. He's made an exception for me," explained Katie.

"Then wait a year! You're going to Romania? Do you even know anyone there?" she practically shouted.

"Oliver's going to be there. He's going with his brother to get away from England for a while, recuperate in a new place. I'll know him and I'll know Sean."

In retrospect, perhaps she shouldn't have mentioned Oliver. Angelina and Oliver were friends, but usually that friendship manifested itself only in between intense arguments, about Quidditch, about life, about anything. Theirs was a tempestuous relationship.

Angelina's eyes darkened. "So you're going to Romania…to follow Oliver? You're going for him?"

Now Katie stood up. "I'm not going because of him! I'm going because it's a chance to try something new, something I could be really good at. This is also a chance to keep looking into the wizards who attacked Oliver, since one of them is from Romania."

"Oliver, Oliver, Oliver. It always comes back to fucking Oliver," hissed Angelina. "Merlin, even when we were in school you always had such a soft spot for him. You put up with his shit even when you shouldn't have. He's not worth it."

"He's your friend too, Ange. Listen to what you're saying!" yelled Katie.

"Nothing comes before Quidditch for that man. The moment he can, he'll forget about you and about us and return to his beloved sport. That's what he did after Fred, right? He showed up for the memorial service, and then not a word from him. Never mind that Fred was on the same team as him for four years. Never mind the fact that we invited him several times to go out for drinks, to talk, and every time he was just too damn busy."

"Is that what's bothering you, Ange?" asked Katie quietly. "Is it still Fred?"

"Of course it's still Fred," bellowed Angelina. "I used to have five best friends. Five, amazing, wonderful friends. Then one of them died, and his brother keeps trying to follow him into the grave by drinking himself to death. Lee's swamped with taking care of George and being in love with Alicia, Alicia's been lying to me for months and now you're moving out of the country. Everyone is either lying or leaving, and I can't stand it. I can't fucking stand it."

She stormed away from the table and towards the door. Before she left, she turned around to face the two of them. "I hope you two had a wonderful time last night," she spat out. "By the way, George is missing again, and even Lee has no idea where else to look." She walked out the door, slammed it shut, and disapparated with a loud crack.

Alicia burst into tears.

Katie sighed. It was going to be a long day.

After calming Alicia down, Katie began writing several letters. The first was to Sean, telling him she accepted his offer. The second was to her parents, catching them up on her life and promising to visit before she left England. The third was to Leanne, asking if they could meet soon to discuss recent events. She would have written to Lee, but if George was indeed missing yet again, then she needed to visit him in person. Alicia left to visit Kira, while Katie flooed into Lee's flat. To her surprise, she found not just Lee but Angelina sitting in the couch in the living room. She hadn't expected Angelina to come here of all places. When Angelina saw Katie, she stiffened.

"Excuse me, Lee," she said suddenly, cutting him off. "I've just remembered I have something to do."

Angelina brushed past Katie on her way out the door before disapparating outside the limits of the flat. Katie sighed, but resigned herself to Angelina's anger for the time being. She took Angelina's spot next to Lee, whose permanent state now appeared to be combination of exhaustion and frustration.

"Angelina told me everything," said Lee. "And I mean _everything_."

Katie leaned back against the couch. "What do you want me to say?"

"Nothing," said Lee, closing his eyes. "Absolutely nothing."

She waited a few seconds in silence before speaking. "I can still do research in Romania," she began tentatively. "I can track down everything there is to know about Emil Petrescu."

Lee opened his eyes. "If you want to do it on your own time, that's wonderful. You leaving is the least of my worries at the moment. Sure, it's a good story, but you weren't exactly the glue holding my life together. I'll manage."

"I know," she said. "It's the only thing that's under control right now, though. I can't offer you a fix for Alicia or Angelina or George."

"I don't need a fix," said Lee, sounding very, very sad. "I need it to be…sixth year again, I think. That sounds right. This was before Voldemort, before Fred, hell, even before Umbridge. My only worries were getting a date to the Yule ball and trying to outsmart Fred and George and maybe getting Krum's autograph. Doesn't that sound fun?"

"It sounds lovely," she said softly. "It sounds like a dream."

"It does, doesn't it?" he said. "Now this is my biggest problem: George figured out I put a tracking spell on him, broke it, and now I have absolutely no idea where he is. He probably feels like I betrayed him."

"You did what you had to do."

"It's not enough," he said, clenching his fist. "It never is." He put his face in his hands. "Merlin, I wish I could go to Romania."

"I thought you liked your job."

"Oh I do," he said. "But I wish I wasn't so tied down here, you know? I'm only twenty one, I should be able to go where I want to go, not have to worry about whether or not George is going to fuck up permanently this time."

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm not leaving for another couple weeks at least. Even after I'm gone, you can still ask me for help if you need it. I'll do everything I can."

"I know Katie," he said softly. "You're a good friend. I don't have to worry about you blowing up at me or breaking my heart."

"I can be quite the heartbreaker, I'll have you know, Jordan," she said with fake pretention.

"Even I didn't believe that," he said, smiling back. "You need to work on your lying, especially if you want to keep working for me on the side."

"I think I'll be able to do more work over there, to be honest," she said. "I've exhausted many of my contacts in London, and so many people are ignorant of anything happening outside of Great Britain."

"I'm sure," he said. "Now, if you don't mind, I have to figure out what to do about George."

"Oh, if you're sure I can't help—

"I'm sure, Katie," he said, rubbing his hands against his head. "If I need any help, I'll reach out to you, I promise."

"Me before Angelina, maybe?" she suggested. "From the way she blew up at me and Alicia earlier, I'm guessing this George situation has been eating away at her for a long time."

"Her and me both," he said tiredly. "She'll come around. Angie's always had a temper—the fuse has just been a bit shorter these past few months. Keeping her away from news about George won't help, I'm afraid. The best thing for her is for him to get his head out of his ass."

Katie left feeling not particularly optimistic about either George or Angelina, though between the two, she knew Angelina would be the first to recover. Angelina had always been prone to short, fiery outbursts that fizzled away quickly. George had always been the more patient of the two twins, the slow burner. It helped him control Fred when his twin's plans threatened to cause serious harm to others, but apparently his temperament also lengthened the duration of his anger. Merlin knew how long it would take for him to regain his senses.

She returned to the flat, where only silence greeted her. Neither Alicia nor Angelina had returned yet, and in their absence, ceiling stretched high above her, the walls seemed hollow and the whole place felt cavernous. She tried cooking again, but not even the delicious smell of curry could distract her from the remnants of Angelina's fury that still echoed in the corners of the room. She ate her lunch quietly, aching for the return of her friends, any of them, but no such luck. Leanne had yet to respond to her letter, so she apparated to the one place she knew she would find a friend: St. Mungo's.

Oliver seemed surprised to see her when she walked in. He was alone for once, no Sean or Charlie or Healers. She'd run into some of his Quidditch and school friends during previous visits, but today it was just him.

"I thought you'd be sick of me after last night," he said.

"No more than usual," she replied, but without any real bite to her words. He sensed her dour mood.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "What happened?"

"Drama," she said. "Ange didn't take it well that I'm moving to Romania."

"Oh," he said. He paused, then added. "You don't have to go, you know. I'll be fine on my own."

She bit back the well of frustration that rose within her. "I'm not going for you."

"I know," he said. "But it probably helps, doesn't it? You've always been a better friend than I deserve, more than any of us deserve. A true Gryffindor," he added teasingly.

She sat down the edge of his bed, careful to avoid hitting his leg. "Why does being a good friend suck sometimes? Why can't people just sort out their problems on their own?"

"Are you actually coming to me for advice?" he asked incredulously.

"No, I'm just here to vent. Don't get ahead of yourself."

"Oh, well," he said, raising his hands, "vent away."

She sighed heavily. She could tell him about George (again), about Angelina breaking down (again) or about Alicia's romantic drama. Or she could talk to him about something else. "Oliver, what's the craziest thing any Quidditch fan has ever done to you?"

"Huh?" he said. "I thought you were venting."

"Actually, I just want to hear someone distract me for a while. Talk about something else outside of my life."

He regarded her carefully, but made no comment. Instead, he launched into a story. "So my first year with Puddlemere, and mind you, I'd just been made a starter, I…"

As she listened to him talk, she thought, if nothing else, they'd do just fine in Romania.


	12. Marked For Life

**A/N: I'm actually kind of happy with this one, happier than I was with the previous ones certainly. I also posted another story written as a companion piece to this chapter, though it does stand alone. It's called "Denouement" and it explores Angelina's relationship with Fred further. As far as I know, it is canon compliant (Rowling never tells us anything about their relationship), and it also fits in with the narrative of this story as well. Not necessary, but something I genuinely enjoyed writing.**

It was two days before Angelina returned the flat. When Katie asked Lee, he told her Angelina had mentioned her friend Maria, one of the other Gryffindor girls in her and Alicia's year and a fellow auror trainee. By the second day, Katie had become genuinely worried about Angelina; while Angelina might blow a gasket every now and again, she normally cooled down within a day and returned in an apologetic state. Katie dreaded the echo of the apartment which Alicia's quiet presence never seemed to fill in the same way as Angelina, so she spent her whole Sunday with Leanne and their other friend Derek, a fellow Ravenclaw housemate of Leanne's who had only just returned from his three-month long venture to South America. Like Katie, Derek was also a muggleborn, and he'd spent the previous year in hiding. The trip had been, in his own words, "a way to live in a place where You-Know-You never laid his slimy fingers," so he and his well-to-do friend Isaac had simply left. Now Derek occupied the couch in Leanne's flat until Isaac closed the deal on a place of their own. Katie enjoyed the day, although Derek's reticence and soft-spoken voice created a layer of unfamiliarity that never existed between Katie and Leanne. Fortunately, he left in the late afternoon to rejoin Isaac, leaving the two of them alone.

Leanne accepted the news of Katie's departure with more equanimity than Angelina. Like Alicia and Angelina, she questioned Katie's motivations and impulsive decision-making, but she understood the intellectual motivations far better than either of Katie's fellow Gryffindors. Healing presented a significant magical challenge, and along with Katie, Leanne had always been near the top of their class in potions. Leanne's acceptance cleared Katie's head, even if it didn't drive away her concerns over Angelina.

On Monday evening after a long day at work, Katie settled into the couch with the latest copy of _Magic International_. She was halfway through the second article on Shacklebolt's negotiations with the French Minister of Magic when the door to the apartment creaked open hesitantly. As Katie looked up, Angelina's body slowly emerged from behind the door, her face bearing an almost sheepish expression.

"Ange," said Katie softly. "You're back."

Angelina nodded. "I'm back."

Katie patted the couch cushion next to her. "You want to talk?"

"Actually," said Angelina, "I could use a drink."

Katie raised an eyebrow, but fetched two bottles of cold butterbeer from the fridge in the kitchen. When she returned to the living room, Angelina was already sitting in the armchair across the coffee table from the couch. The shirt she wore was new, or perhaps it belonged to Maria. The floral patterns didn't match Angelina's usual tastes, so Katie presumed the latter option.

Angelina took the butterbeer from Katie gratefully and swallowed a swig of it. "I found George again."

"And?"

"He was in the Hog's Head, drinking with Aberforth. He's with Lee now, although Ron should be back from Australia within the next couple days and he'll take over George watch once he returns."

"Good," said Katie. "You should take a break. All of this worrying over him, it's not healthy for you."

"I know," sighed Angelina. "I know it's made me a bit of a bitch at times."

"Well, nothing too new there," joked Katie weakly. Her attempt at humor fell flat as Angelina appeared genuinely distraught.

"It shouldn't be like that, though. It just shouldn't." She shook her head. "Sometimes I think about how all of this would be if Fred had just lived, you know? He and George would be running their joke shop, Lee would be working normal hours, you, me and Leesh would be there all of the time, for dinner or for drinking. Either one."

"And you and Fred?" prompted Katie, testing the waters cautiously.

"I don't know!" cried Angelina, alarming Katie slightly. "That's just the thing—I don't know! We hadn't been exclusive since we broke up that for good in seventh year—

"I remember," muttered Katie. Her ears had been ringing for a week afterwards.

—but even last year, occasionally, he and I, would, you know…"

"Fuck?" supplied Katie.

"Usually. We never made any commitments, and but it probably happened a couple dozen times throughout the year. He would come back from Order assignments with this look in his eye, and we didn't really talk about it, you know? It just happened. He would show up, and I'd know."

"Were you in love with him, Ange? Is that what this is about?"

"I used to think I was," she murmured. "In sixth year, I was sure about it. Then Voldemort came back and nothing seemed so simple anymore. Fred had this sense of purpose, these priorities far beyond school or anything I understood, and he could be so bloody frustrating."

"Well, you two only broke up, what, six times in as many months?" said Katie.

"Something like that."

"And now you wonder if things would be different now. If maybe you'd be together as adults not as students."

"It's stupid," said Angelina, leaning back. "It's all so stupid. He's gone, and we were never going to make it in the long run. We would have killed each other."

"That doesn't mean you didn't love him," said Katie softly.

Angelina smiled a crooked smile. "I don't know if it's better one way or the other. Either I spent years of my life on someone I didn't love, or I did love him and now he's gone."

"And there's George."

Her grin dissolved. "There's George. The only person who knew Fred better than me. Except maybe Lee," she added.

"You can't fix him," Katie told her. "You can't singlehandedly drag him out of his misery. Trying to do so, I mean, I love you, Ange, but what you said Alicia…"

Angelina appeared as if she might cry, and in her head, Katie begged her not to, begged her to be strong like Angelina like she always was. Katie always thought Angelina was the most Gryffindor of all of them—Katie was half a Ravenclaw, and while Alicia possessed the fierce loyalty of Gryffindors, only Angelina ever displayed the bold, brash behavior that characterized so much of their house. Angelina was strong. She was in training to be an auror.

"I'm going to Romania not to leave you," said Katie. "I'm going to miss you and Alicia and Leanne every day, and I will come back. You can even visit me over there." Her lips quirked up in a half smile. "You might enjoy leaving England for a while. A change of scenery can be a change in perspective."

Angelina huffed out a laugh. "Maybe. I'll try," she promised, and her assurance satisfied Katie. She wanted her friend back, especially when the day of her departure drew nearer so rapidly. Three weeks, Sean told her. Three weeks until she moved to a foreign country and a brand new job. She needed to purchase a book on how to speak Romanian.

Angelina snapped her fingers in front of Katie. "Earth to Bell," she said mockingly. "You're still here aren't you?"

"I'm here."

"Well," Angelina gulped, "I was thinking maybe we could invite Kira over for dinner? It could be the four of use. I know you've met her, but I should properly introduce myself. Apologize for the mess I put Alicia through."

"I think," said Katie, "that's one of your best ideas."

Thursday evening found Kira, Alicia, Angelina and Katie seated around the dinner table trying to wade through the discomfort that clogged the air. Angelina's harsh words (presumably relayed by Alicia) subdued Kira's natural effusiveness. Alicia for her part kept her expression set in an almost defiant manner, and she reached for Kira's hand at every opportunity. Katie was largely carrying the conversation.

"So Puddlemere and the Tornadoes are playing soon, huh?" said Katie. "You two going to be good to play against each other?"

"Of course," said Kira, looking a little affronted. "What we do on the pitch is separate from what happens off of it."

Her statement echoed Oliver's sentiment in _The Quidditch Weekly_ article so closely that Katie wondered if all professional Quidditch players were taught to spout these stock lines.

"We've got the upper hand, though," stated Alicia smugly. "Your reserve seeker isn't half as good as Wood ever was, er, is," she quickly corrected with a subtle glance at Katie.

"He's improving, you know, with some of the concentrated practice we've been giving him," insisted Kira. Alicia smirked, and Kira narrowed her eyes. "It doesn't matter what he's like as much. We have the best beaters in the league—you'll be lucky to hold onto quaffle for more than five seconds."

Alicia harrumphed. Kira smiled, adding, "You might have a shot, though."

Alicia melted beneath Kira's warm gaze, and Katie observed Angelina surreptitiously to gage her reaction to Alicia's behavior. Angelina looked pensive as she watched the two of them. She said nothing, but instead twirled a carrot around on her fork absentmindedly. Kira and Alicia were chatting in the background, but Katie ignored their idle chatter.

"Katie, who was the friend of yours at the gala? Amir or something like that," Kira asked, and Katie snapped her attention away from Angelina. "The one with the glasses?"

"Amit?" she inferred. She didn't have many friends at the gala to choose from. "I thought you knew him?"

"I recognized his name once I heard it, but I just couldn't remember it for some reason. Anyways, he was telling me something interesting about Orley," she said.

"Orley, as in Cassia Orley, the Quidditch Commissioner?" spoke Angelina. Kira looked at her, startled; Angelina hadn't spoken in at least ten minutes.

"Yes, her," said Kira, regarding Angelina cautiously. "He told me she wasn't English."

"She went to Hogwarts, though," said Alicia with a frown. "Everyone knows she was one of the best players Slytherin ever had—she's got a trophy at Hogwarts. I've heard her speak, and she's certainly not Scottish or Irish either."

"Apparently she and her mum moved here when she was something like eight or nine," explained Kira. "You wouldn't know from speaking to her. Her English is impeccable, and she's never mentioned living anywhere else."

"Who cares?" said Katie. "It doesn't matter where she was born, does it? I mean, it didn't stop her from becoming one of the wealthiest witches in England, did it?"

"It doesn't really matter," admitted Kira. "I just thought you might be interested to know because she's Romanian. That is where you're going, right?"

"It is, yes. I guess it's nice to see I'm not the only person living abroad, although she hardly counts since she's probably been here for at least forty years at this point." Katie chewed her way through a particularly tough piece of beef. "I mean, she's spent the vast majority of her life in England. It sounds like she's not super patriotic about her Romanian heritage if this is the first you're hearing about it."

"I thought, maybe, I don't know, you could—I guess you wouldn't really have occasion to talk to her," said Kira, this realization only just dawning on her,

"I'm not exactly on a first name basis with the Quidditch Commissioner," said Katie drily. "Or any basis for that matter. What, you are?"

"Oh, one of her sons and I were in the same year, became good friends while on the Quidditch team," said Kira casually. "I've been around for dinner a few times."

"Which son of hers did you play with?" queried Angelina.

"Zach. He plays for the Wimbourne Wasps now."

"I know that," said Angelina. "Before I started auror training, I was working for the _Prophet_ sports section. I know nearly all the players by name." She speared a Brussel sprout. "So you were in Slytherin then? I interviewed Zach once. He mentioned playing for Slytherin."

"One of the best beaters in the school," said Kira proudly. "We go way back, him and me. I think his mum always hoped we'd end up together, but that clearly wasn't going to happen. We're quite happy as friends, and I enjoy beating him up during matches."

"I thought you left relationships off the pitch," remarked Katie.

"Romantic ones, sure. This is different. It's not like he goes easy on me either," she said, rolling her eyes. "He broke my arm once with a bludger. His mum nearly had a fit, yelled at him about how he'd ruined his chances with me. That's according to him, mind you. She didn't actually say that to me. She shouldn't worry though—I have plenty of stories about her far worse than that one."

Katie listened as Kira recounted numerous tales about her experiences with Cassia Orley, and even Angelina laughed at the thought of one of the most respected witches in England showing up to an English football match completely bedecked in the paraphernalia of an American football team. Apparently, modern witches and wizards had made great strides in blending in with muggles over the years, though there was still a significant generational gap.

Kira left around nine o'clock, and Alicia accompanied her out of the door, leaving Katie and Angelina momentarily alone.

"I thought you said she was in Ravenclaw," Angelina said quietly.

"I thought she was," said Katie. "She mentioned being in Ravenclaw tower, but I suppose she was just visiting at the time. Merlin knows I used to spend a fair bit of time there with Leanne." Angelina frowned. "You're not seriously hung up on this, are you?" asked Katie.

"Katie, you remember how awful the Slytherins were in school. Most of them were a bunch of arrogant pricks, and several of them ended up actively trying to kill us."

"Yes, some of them were awful, maybe even the majority. However, I'd like to think I'm capable of looking beyond someone's house, especially when said person has shown herself to be a wonderful, caring girlfriend for one of our best friends." She emphasized the last sentence in particular.

Angelina crossed her arms. "Well, either way, she's not what I expected."

Katie grabbed the bait. "What did you expect?"

"Someone a bit more down to earth. She's sort of, well, glamorous, isn't she? Knowing the Quidditch Commissioner, being well connected. Her shirt tonight must have cost at least month and a half of our rent." Angelina's frown deepend

"So she's well-connected and wealthy. Plenty of other wizards are. Remember that asshole who kept trying out for Quidditch each year? Cormac McLaggen? And that Hufflepuff boy in the DA? Macmillan? Both of their families are loaded, neither one in Slytherin. And yeah, McLaggen was a douche, but Macmillan seemed like a nice guy." Angelina's expression remained unchanged, and Katie sighed. "Look, this night is about tolerance and acceptance, right? You're not exactly standing heads and shoulders above the rest of us right now."

Angelina flinched. "Maybe so, but that doesn't have to mean I think she's right for Alicia. Alicia is sensitive and sensible, and Kira just seems like some high-flying, high-minded-

"Alicia was the one who didn't want to tell you, Ange, not Kira," said Katie, her volume now up a notch. "In fact, Kira was the one who kept advocating for them to go public. I know you're still upset Alicia didn't tell you, but don't take it out on Kira."

Angelina opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment, Alicia returned inside. Her cheeks were flushes and several strands of hair stuck out of her normally tightly controlled bun.

"What do you think?" she said breathlessly, looking hopefully at Angelina.

Katie shot a meaningful look at Angelina. _Be nice_ , she mouthed.

"I thought she was lovely," said Angelina, and if her smile rang false, Alicia saw right through it. She swept her friend into a hug.

"I'm so glad you do. I really hope you'll become friends—you two have a lot in common. Of course you both like Quidditch, but she also knows so much about fashion, more than Katie or I ever will."

"She also has the budget for her tastes," remarked Angelina wryly.

Alicia laughed nervously. "Right, I guess so. Anyways, I think we should do this again, especially before you leave, Katie. She's actually been to Romania before, traveling for Quidditch and such, so I'm sure she could give you some advice."

"Thanks, Alicia. I'll keep that in mind." Katie smiled, and so did Alicia, but Angelina shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.

"We'll, I've got an early morning," said Alicia. "I'll talk to you all tomorrow, I suppose."

"Sounds good. Ooh, that reminds me," said Katie, remembering suddenly. "There's a bit of a thing at Oliver's tomorrow. He was released from the hospital yesterday, and there's a welcome home party at his place. He asked me to invite you two."

"That sounds like fun, doesn't it, Ange?" said Alicia. "We'll definitely be there. What time does it start?"

"Seven thirty, I think he said, and that we were welcome to bring along a friend or two. We can all travel together—he gave me his address, and it's actually not too far from here. We could probably walk."

"Wonderful," said Angelina in a tone that was anything but. "If you two don't mind, I have a quiz tomorrow and I need to study. Goodnight!" She left abruptly, and Alicia turned to her with some confusion.

"Is she alright?" she asked Katie. "Did I miss something?"

"No, I think she's just a little stressed," said Katie. Hopefully Angelina would be able to process her emotions without upsetting Alicia any more, and Katie certainly wasn't going to be the one to open that can of worms. "She'll be all good by tomorrow."

Bring a friend or two, said Oliver, and she wondered if he understood what he was doing when he told his invitees the invitation extended to their friends. By 7:45, only fifteen minutes after the party had begun, the main room of Oliver's flat was rapidly filling up with people. Fortunately, it was a large room; he and his roommate, fellow Puddlemere player Fridgeir Svensson, both had lucrative Quidditch contracts that allowed them to afford a flat easily two to three times the size of Angelina and Alicia's. Katie had never actually been to Oliver's home before, and the tasteful decorations and furnishings surprised her-she'd never imagined Oliver as having any particular inclination for design. Then she met Fridgeir and realized it was likely that Oliver had, at most, picked out one or two potted plants and nothing more. Fridgeir, an imposing tall and startlingly blond man, was impeccably dressed for the evening. When she walked in the door, he quickly rushed over to greet her and remove her coat.

"You are Katie Bell?" he said in an accented voice. She remembered from her conversation with someone-Alicia, Kira, or Oliver, she couldn't recall-that he hailed from the tiny country of Iceland. He'd actually attended Durmstrang, but given that Iceland had no Quidditch league of its own due to its size, he'd been free to choose from a number of leagues across Europe. He'd decided on England because, as he explained to her, he already spoke English and Russian, and didn't want to learn some other "annoyingly complicated language."

"It distracts from Quidditch," he told her, and she immediately understood why he and Oliver had become such good friends.

"Doesn't Russia have a league too?" she asked.

"Have you ever lived in a place where there are three hours of sunlight in the winter? I think not," he said. "Excuse me, but some more guests have just arrived."

He swept away to greet the newest arrivals, five burly men who looked like they would spend most of the night huddled around the beer selection. Alicia struck up a conversation with one of her teammates and dragged Angelina along with her. Katie followed them, but she largely ignored their conversation. Her eyes scanned the room, searching the man in whose honor the party had been thrown. He was strangely absent from the room. She thought she spotted him at one point, but closer inspection revealed the sandy-haired figured to be the elder Wood brother. He and Charlie appeared to be in the middle of an enthusiastic conversation with the Puddlemere seeker and was gesturing animatedly with his hands. She remembered Wood mentioning with some disgust that Charlie could have played Quidditch for England if he wanted to, but had chosen a much less noble profession. He still knew how to talk about Quidditch apparently, even if he didn't play for a living.

She left Angelina and Alicia and approached a man who was nursing a glass of some amber liquid by himself near one of the tables set up on the side. He wore his dark hair in a mop that reached several inches past the nape of his neck and obscured his face from the side. She walked up to him hesitantly and cleared her throat cautiously.

"Pardon me, but do you know where Oliver is?"

The man turned around in surprise, and she looked into the familiar face of Marcus Flint.

"Flint!" she exclaimed in shock. "You're...you're here?"

Flint's beady gray eyes narrowed. Flint had been captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team and had possessed deep hatred of Gryffindor, especially for its Quidditch captain. Oliver reciprocated those feelings with equal intensity. Flint had always treated her with special condescension because of her muggleborn heritage, which was pretty rich for a man who'd had to repeat his seventh year after failing his exams. Marcus Flint was perhaps the last person she expected to see at a party for Oliver Wood.

"We're all full of surprises these days, _Bell_ ," he said, inserting special disdain into the pronunciation of her name.

"Seriously, what are you doing here? You and Wood hate each other. Don't tell me you're actually friends now."

"Oh no," he said, and took an extra large gulp of his drink. "I still despise the bastard, but I'm never one to turn down a free drink."

"There's no way you were invited," she said skeptically.

He bared his teeth in something resembling a smile, though he still reminded her strongly of a troll. "No, I wasn't, but _he_ was," he said, pointing his thumb towards another man who was deep in conversation with two women towards the center of the room. "Chaser for the Falcons, like me. I thought, why not see what actually happened to the mighty Oliver Wood. No one's been able to get a straight answer. Perhaps you'd care to enlighten me, you being such good friends with him." He leered at her, and she had to swallow a gag of disgust.

"If you're looking for information, then you can take your troll-face elsewhere," she told him sharply. "I'm surprised they let you into the League. Don't you have to have at least a modicum of intelligence?"

"Careful what you say, Bell," he said. "And for your information, they don't really care about tests or grades as long as you're bigger and stronger than everyone else. Comes in handy when flying against scrawny little Scottish keepers."

Oliver wasn't scrawny by anyone's standards, but she'd already wasted enough of her precious time talking with a man she;d hoped to never see again once he (finally) graduated Hogwarts. He wore long sleeves inside, despite the warmth the crowd generated, and she wondered what lay beneath the sleeve of his robe. Not everyone who bore the dark mark had been imprisoned, only those actually convicted of crimes. Even those actively involved could often claim coercion.

"Whatever, Flint," she said. "Unless you know where Oliver is, I'm done here. Have a nice life."

He frowned, clearly disappointed she wasn't taking the bait. He drained the last of his tumbler and said roughly, "I think I saw him head down the hallway." He pointed to to a door that stood slightly ajar on the far side of the wall. "He was with some girl. Don't know who, but she was easy on the eyes if you know what I mean."

"Your input is appreciated as always," she said scathingly. "Enjoy your drinks."

"Oh I will," he assured her with a look that made her skin crawl.

She shook off the slimy sensation Flint left as a parting gift and walked over to the door Flint had pointed out. Through the sliver of an opening, she saw the hallway was dark, lit only by a small ray of light that escaped the from the edges of a door. Maybe this was a bad idea, she thought. If Wood wanted to be alone back here, then she shouldn't intrude. This space wasn't a part of the party.

She turned around to leave when door opened and light flooded the hallway, She turned around to see a woman standing in the doorway, although only her profile was visible in front of the light source. A man-presumably Oliver-also stood there too, but from her perspective, the door frame hid most of him. They were talking quietly, and Katie froze, unsure if she should try to leave and attract attention to herself or remain there and try to appear casual. Then the woman leaned in and kissed Oliver, full on the mouth, and all the air in Katie's lungs disappeared. She hadn't known Oliver was seeing someone.

The woman pulled away, and walked down the hallway. She saw Katie, and halted. "Hello," she said confusedly. Katie noted a distinctly Scottish lilt to her voice, although it wasn't as prominent in her as it was in Oliver.

Wood had also stepped into the hallway, and he was leaning heavily on the cane they'd given him to use. His face scrunched up in confusion as well. "Katie," he said in mild surprise. "What are you doing back here?"

"I, uh," she stuttered, flailing for words. "Flint said you were back here, and I just, uh, wanted to make sure you were okay." It sounded weak, and she didn't mention that Flint had informed her of the presence of another woman.

He scowled. "Flint? Marcus Flint?" She nodded. "What the hell is he doing here?"

Katie shrugged. "Said he was here for the free drinks."

Oliver's scowl deepened. "Excuse me a moment then, Bea. I have to go have a little chat with Marcus Flint." He stalked past her and his pronounced limp only added to his aura of anger.

Bea fidgeted in the dim, half-light and swept bangs away from her face. She was dressed casually in jeans and fitted shirt emblazoned with some sort of logo, although it wasn't written in English. Spanish perhaps?

"I'm sorry for interrupting," said Katie.

"It's fine," said Bea, although she didn't meet Katie's eyes.

"I, uh, didn't realize Oliver was seeing someone," said Katie. "He never mentioned." She immediately winced at her decidedly untactful statement.

Bea cleared her throat. "We're not together. I just came back from some time abroad in Brazil, and I thought I would drop by and visit a friend." She smiled ruefully. "Just as I come back, he's leaving. Figures, you know."

"Good friends then?" Katie knew she sounded a little petulant, but her curiosity was overwhelming her good manners at the moment.

"We dated. Then I moved to Brazil and we broke up." She shrugged uncomfortably. "That's the story."

Katie was saved from further discussion with Oliver's ex-girlfriend by the sound of a loud crash. Both she and Bea started, and Katie flung open the door behind to her get a better view of the scene in the main room. It didn't take her long to pinpoint the source of the commotion; everyone had halted their conversations to watch what was happening.

Pieces of shattered glass were strewn about the floor near the side table where Katie had spoken to Marcus Flint. Flint himself lay on the floor and was holding a hand to his nose, trying to contain the blood trickling out of it. He removed his hand to examine the blood staining it and laughed. Oliver stood over him, fuming.

"Get the hell out of my house," he spat.

"Merlin's beard, Wood," said Flint, still laughing. "That still the best you can do? Did you hurt your spine along with your leg?"

Oliver lunged forward again but was held back by Angelina of all people, who darted forward to restrain him.

"Let go of me," he said through gritted teeth.

"Don't be an idiot, Wood," she said. Fridgeir joined Angelina in grabbing one of Oliver's arms. "You'll hurt yourself."

"Listen to your friends, Woody," spoke up Marcus from the floor, pinching his nose to halt the blood flow.

Oliver seethed, but relaxed in the grip of Fridgeir and Angelina. "Just because the league lets Death Eaters like you play, doesn't mean I have to let you into my house." Flint's face turned stony. "Yeah, I know what's under those sleeves of yours. Care to show everyone else here?"

"You have no idea what you're talking about," said Flint in a low, dangerous voice.

"Don't I?" said Wood. "Seems pretty simple to me. You've got a dark mark, which means that no self-respecting person, muggle or wizard, should ever have to speak to you."

"Bloody Gryffindors," muttered Marcus. "So black and white. So much chivalry, so little brains." He slowly stood up, one hand covering his nose.

"Get out!" yelled Wood. "Get out!"

"Fine, fine," said Flint, and he brushed away some of the broken glass stuck to his robes. "There's just one more thing."

Without any more warning, he punched Oliver right in the face. Angelina and Fridgeir had let go of him by this point, so nothing supported him when he staggered back and collapsed as his bad leg gave out. Oliver's face blanched, and he clutched his leg, cursing. Sean rushed to Oliver's side immediately, while first Fridgeir then Charlie and one other brawny Quidditch player grabbed Flint. Although Flint was a large man, Fridgeir was taller, and both Charlie and the other player (likely a beater based on his build, assumed Katie) outmuscled him. They dragged him outside with unnecessary force given that Flint wasn't resisting at all, but no one protested their rough treatment. Katie heard a thump as they threw Flint on the ground, but she couldn't distinguish what the three of them were actually saying. Nothing suitable for civilized conversation, to be sure.

A small crowd had gathered around both Woods, but Sean shooed them away, "I'm a healer. He needs space." He resumed talking to Oliver in a low voice, and Oliver nodded and shook his head in response but didn't actually speak. Sean glanced around the room. "Katie, can you recognize a fast acting pain potion?"

"Is it turquoise?" she asked, digging through her memory of potions class.

"That's it," said Sean. "Would you mind grabbing it? It should be in his room on his desk."

"Sure," she said, and ventured once more into the hallway. The light in his room was still lit, so didn't even bother with a quick _lumos_ as she entered. When she walked into his room, she took a moment to appraise it. Nothing really surprised her; it was neat and organized, which was expected given Oliver's rather obsessive nature. A Puddlemere poster hung on the wall, and several pictures sat framed on the desk. Several of him with his parents and Sean, a couple of Puddlemere, and with a start, she realized that one of the pictures included her. Well, not just her, but the whole Gryffindor Quidditch team from her fourth year and Oliver's seventh. They all looked impossibly young, Harry especially so, and her heart clenched when Fred's smiling face beamed out of the photograph. He was standing in between George and Angelina with a mischievous grin on his face. She remembered this photo-it had been taken shortly after they won the Quidditch cup that year, and within moments of the camera flashing, Fred had dropped a dungbomb right at Angelina's feet. She hadn't spoken to him for a week.

Swallowing back the sudden swell of emotion, she began sorting through the rather large chest of potions on the desk. She recognized the names of some, but a several were unfamiliar. Eventually, she found a vial containing the turquoise potion Sean had requested and returned to the main room. She knelt down by Oliver and handed the vial to Sean who passed it along to Oliver. When Oliver swallowed the liquid, he relaxed almost immediately and closed his eyes for a moment. Fast acting indeed.

Oliver opened his eyes and sighed in relief. "Thanks, Katie," he said.

"No gratitude for your brother?" asked Sean teasingly.

"You're obligated to deal with me because you're family. She's not," retorted Oliver.

Katie thought back to the photo. They weren't related, but that Quidditch team always felt like family in school. Then, Oliver had been akin to an older brother, one she occasionally despised because of the torture he subjected them all to, but still an integral, irreplaceable member of their odd little family. It wasn't the same now, and not just because they were no longer in Hogwarts and two of them played professionally and one of them was dead. They had all grown up. Katie had been just fourteen when the photo was taken, barely past puberty. Now she was nineteen, nearly twenty, and Oliver almost twenty three.

She felt eyes on her, and looked up. Bea's gaze was directed at her and Oliver, and her expression mixed curiosity and something steelier.

No, their family was not at all the same, and whatever would emerge from the shards of the old one had only just begun to take form.


	13. A First Date

The party settled quickly in the aftermath of Flint's ejection. With the help of Sean and Katie, Oliver moved to a couch where he could prop his leg up on a table. Sean was displeased with the events of the night, but he remained quiet with only a frown to indicate his worry for his younger brother. Eventually, Charlie pulled him away by slinging one arm around his shoulder and steering him towards a conversation with Fridgeir and the other Quidditch player who'd assisted in physically removing Flint from the premises. The other player (who was a beater, as Katie first assumed and later confirmed) had been impressed by Charlie's strength.

"You would make a good beater," he said in what sounded like a vaguely American accent, eyeing Charlie's considerable biceps.

"I make a much better seeker," replied Charlie.

"Seeker?" The man's eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't have guessed. You have the build for a beater."

"Charlie was nearly recruited to play for England, but he turned them down," Fridgeir informed him. "At least, that's what Wood tells me."

"I preferred dragons," said Charlie, a broad grin on his face. "Much more straightforward. There aren't too many ways to trick a dragon."

"I see," said the man. He turned to Katie. "I don't suppose you turned down playing Quidditch for England as well?"

"Not likely, although I did play in school. That's how I know Oliver," she said.

"Ah, you're one of the chasers then," he said, nodding to himself. Katie must have appeared confused, because he clarified, "We joined the League the same year, both on the Puddlemere reserve team. He used to rave about his Hogwarts team, said all of you could have played professionally."

Katie blushed. "That's awfully generous of him. Alicia plays for the tornadoes now, but as for the rest of us..." Katie shrugged. "None of us were interested enough, I suppose. We never tried out."

"That's a shame," he said, eyeing her up and down. "You seem nice. Wood always mentioned how there was one chaser who probably would have lopped his head off if given the chance on certain days, but I'm guessing that's not you."

Katie laughed. "Angelina? He's not wrong, although I think most of us harbored some murderous feelings at point or another. He used to wake us up at dawn for early morning practices in the rain, and then spend an hour lecturing at us about strategy. Mostly we just slept through the last part."

The man's face lit up. "He always said you enjoyed those little strategy sessions. If they were anything like the rants about keeper positioning I heard him go on, I'm happy to hear you're actually sane. I was worried he'd managed to recruit a bunch of like-minded, Quidditch obsessed drones who actually welcomed hours of his ramblings." He held out his hand. "I'm Ezra, by the way. I play for the Falcons."

She shook his hand. "Katie. I don't play for any Quidditch team."

Fridgeir clapped a hand on Ezra's back. "Ezzie is one of the most vicious beaters out there, but he buys us drinks afterwards, so we forgive him. Mostly."

Ezra smirked. "I do feel a little bad about last time."

"No, you don't," said Fridgeir flatly. He explained to Katie, "I broke three ribs, almost fell off my broom."

"And that's what mediwizards are for, eh?" said Ezra. "I'm getting myself a drink, and I could bring some back if you like."

"Firewhiskey, neat," said Katie, and Charlie requested a beer. Ezra quickly disappeared behind a cluster of people blocking his path to the drink table. Fridgeir watched him disappear with some amusement.

"He's from Canada, you know," he said. "Muggleborn, so he grew up playing this sport called hockey. From what he's told me, it's customary to slam other players against the boards and to punch them when they foul you. I think he's still disappointed Quidditch matches don't allow the same." He sipped his own drink. "He convinced me to play one time, but I'm a pretty terrible skater, so I spent most of the time falling down and sitting on my ass." He looked thoughtful. "In retrospect, that was probably the point."

"Sounds like my type of game," said Charlie, and Sean rolled his eyes.

Fridgeir responded, but something in the corner of her Katie's distracted her. Bea now sat next to Oliver on the couch, and though he appeared to be in conversation with someone else, little space separated the two of them. One of Oliver's arms lay stretched out across the back of the couch and his hand brushed Bea's shoulder casually. She leaned into the touch.

"Were Bea and Oliver together for long?" she asked suddenly, and Fridgeir, Charlie and Sean halted their conversation in surprise. Each man looked down at her, and she suddenly felt very small.

"You know better than me, Fridgeir" said Sean. "Oliver never tells me much about his personal life."

"At least six months," said Fridgeir, crossing his arms. "I don't recall when they made it official, but they broke up when she moved away. She's muggleborn, and most of her family lives in Brazil, so she left just before You-Know-Who took over the Ministry." His eyes skittered over the crowd before coming to rest on Oliver and Bea. "When she didn't come back in May, I thought she might have decided to stay there. Maybe she met some other fellow."

Not likely, thought Katie, but she refrained from voicing that particular thought. "She seemed disappointed Oliver was leaving in a month, so I think if there was a man, he's long gone," said Katie, attempting to keep her voice steady to mask her curiosity.

"They' go way back," said Sean, jumping into the conversation. "She lived in the same town as us, although she didn't know she was a witch till she received her letter. McGonagall showed up to explain the situation, and she told her about us. She's a year older than Ollie, but they played together as kids. She might just want to see him to reconnect with an old friend."

Katie doubted very much that Bea only wanted to see Oliver in a platonic sense, but the reappearance of Ezra interrupted her thoughts.

"One beer for the fool who turned down England," he said, sidling up to Charlie. "One firewhiskey for Wood's long-suffering chaser, and another for his even longer-suffering brother."

Sean raised his eyebrows as he accepted the glass. "I didn't ask for this."

"Yeah, but you wanted one," said Ezra. "Believe me, I can spot a man who needs a drink a league away."

"What are you drinking?" asked Katie suspiciously, peering at the bright, jungle-green liquid in Ezra's cup.

"Absinthe," said Fridgeir with something in his voice approaching either admiration or disgust. "Straight?"

"No other way," said Ezra and held out his glass. "To Quidditch players, past, present, and future."

They each tilted back their cups and swallowed a generous portion. Katie coughed as the firewhiskey burned her throat, but Ezra barely blinked as he downed half the glass. Fridgeir appeared mildly horrified at the sight, although Charlie quickly became extremely jovial; she suspected he'd had a couple of drinks beforehand, as no amount of beer would make someone that happy.

"I've heard that the trolls in Iceland are different. A bit more slender. Have you ever seen one?" asked Charlie, and he and Fridgeir began a spirited conversation on regional differences in troll morphology. Sean slipped away, presumably to either check on Oliver or to talk to another friend. Ezra drained the last of his absinthe while Katie consumed her firewhiskey at a far more reasonable pace.

"You're the girl with the necklace," Ezra said after a long minute of silence filled only by the chatter of Fridgeir and Charlie. "I remember now, before I was traded to the Falcons. When he heard about what happened to you, well, I don't think I've ever seen him so angry." He tapped the side of his glass with one steady finger. "Sure, he gets emotional over matches and the team, but, real, genuine fury? It was a little terrifying. He skipped a couple of practices to visit you."

"So I've been told," said Katie, now feeling distinctly discomforted.

"Sorry if I'm being too forward," said Ezra. "I just remembered why the name Katie sounded familiar and put two and two together. I'm realizing now you probably don't want to talk about this."

"I'd prefer not to," she replied shortly.

"I'm always making a bit of an ass of myself. People in England are so uptight, like to keep things bottled up-I forget sometimes."

"And you think there's a better way to do it," she said skeptically.

"I know there is," he said and smiled a brilliant smile. "Some basic, old-fashioned, hand-to-hand combat. That's how it's done in hockey. Do you know what hockey is?"

"I've heard of it," said Katie, amused.

"If one sport could come close to Quidditch, it would be hockey," he said, and a dreamy glaze formed in his eyes. "Nobody can fly, of course, it being a muggle sport, but it's pure, raw aggression. I mean, real, professional hockey has rules, but the games my friends and I would play at school-" he tapped his teeth-"let's just say that a few of these puppies have been regrown."

"Charming," said Katie.

"I think so," said Ezra. "I'm guessing you've never played."

"I have not," she admitted. "I doubt I'll have much a chance to, either. I don't think hockey is popular in Romania."

"Romania?" he exclaimed. "What are you doing there?"

"Training to be a healer, I think," she said. "I leave in a few weeks."

Ezra frowned. "Hmm. That is a pity."

She finished her firewhiskey with one last gulp and set it down on a nearby shelf. "And why is that a pity?"

"I'm sure you'll be very busy packing and preparing to leave, which puts a bit of a damper on my plans to ask you out."

If she'd still been holding her glass, she likely would have dropped it in surprise, making two cups lost that night. Instead, she sputtered, "Ask me out? You want to ask me out?"

"Sure, but like I said, I'm sure you're far too busy," he said with a heavy sigh.

"You don't know that," she said, before realizing what she'd just implied.

His eyes sparkled playfully. "Does that mean you'd say yes, if, hypothetically, I were to ask you on a date?"

She considered him carefully. He was a tall, muscular man with ochre colored skin, messy pitch-black hair and gentle dark eyes. Despite his clear penchant for settling disputes physically, he seemed like a genuinely good guy. His status as a professional Quidditch player combined with his natural good looks made him an objectively attractive choice. He was exactly the type of man that Angelina had encouraged her to find at the gala, and Katie knew if Angelina were a part of the conversation, she would have already said yes for Katie. Yes, she left for Romania in three weeks, but one date was hardly a commitment. It had been so long since she'd dated anyone, well over a year and a half.

"It depends," said Katie slowly. "What did you have in mind?"

His smile widened. "I was thinking this would be an excellent chance for you to try ice skating."

Her eyes narrowed. "First of all, it's September, so unless you plan on freezing a pond, I'm not sure where we could go. Secondly, Fridgeir told me you took him skating once and he spent most of the time on his ass."

Ezra laughed, a deep hearty laugh that seemed to make the air vibrate around him. "To your first point, there are indoor skating rinks. Not many of them in England, but I know a few places. And to your second point, well, yes, Fridgeir did look like a bit of an idiot, but only because I convinced him to play hockey. He's skated before, but not nearly enough to be halfway decent. On your first time, you and I would just be skating, nothing more. You might fall once or twice, but I bet you can handle it."

In the corner of her eye, Katie saw how Bea closed any remaining distance between her and Oliver, how he allowed her into his space so naturally. Something tugged at her stomach, but she dismissed it as a side effect of the firewhiskey. Ezra was still waiting for her response with impatient eyes.

"What the hell," she finally said. "I don't see why not."

"Perfect," he said delightedly. "Are you free this Sunday?"

Her Sunday was wide open except for an evening at McLellans with Leanne and Amit. Over the past weeks, particularly since the encounter with Igor, Amit had begun to accompany Leanne and Katie for drinks. Not all of the time, of course, but she no longer questioned his presence at their outings. They wouldn't meet up until eight or nine, which left the rest of the day free for whatever she wanted. Apparently, she wanted to learn how to ice skate with Ezra.

"Up until eight or nine," she said. "I should warn you, I'm not much of a morning person. I know most of you Quidditch players are by force of habit, but I'm enjoying not waking up at dawn every day."

"Don't worry," he said. "I have plans in the morning, so maybe one? We could meet at the Leaky Cauldron at one."

She nodded. "Sounds like a plan," she said.

"Perfect. Oh, look, there's Hapley. She certainly dressed for the occasion."

Kira Hapley, accompanied by another woman Katie didn't recognize, swept into the room with a flourish, and she was indeed wearing a dress that managed to remain somewhat informal while still making an impression. Of course she was invited, thought Katie; she and Oliver both played for Puddlemere. Katie glanced over at Angelina and Alicia to observe their reactions. Predictably, Angelina stiffened the moment she laid eyes on Kira, but she hid her initial reaction well. Alicia beckoned her over, and much to Katie's, Angelina's and everyone else's surprise, the two of them kissed each other hello. Not a kiss on the cheek, but a sweet, firm, we-are-permanently-together, kiss.

"Is that new?" muttered Ezra in her ear. "I thought I knew all of the Quidditch couples. Locker room gossip usually picks up on these things before they begin."

"Sort of," she said distractedly. "Excuse me, I need to say hello." And keep Angelina from saying something she regrets, thought Katie, but she kept those thoughts to herself.

Katie spent the rest of the party with Angelina, although she spoke to many of the other guests throughout the night. She, Angelina, Sean and Charlie were some of the few non-Quidditch players at the event, and some of the other people seemed almost fascinated by the idea of a life without Quidditch. What did they do with their time? Didn't they miss playing? What were their opinions, as an outsider, on the season? After the third person to rattle off the same questions, Katie realized that Oliver Wood might not actually be the biggest fanatic in the league. Some were capable of pleasant on other topics, and she genuinely enjoyed their company. She understood Oliver's feelings about the gala-as grand and opulent an event as it was, informal conversation in an informal environment felt far more natural.

Bea left before the party officially ended (although not before dragging Oliver into the hallway again, Katie noticed, but she didn't follow them this time). Katie, Angelina, Alicia and Kira all remained until the very end. At last, only twenty or so people still stood in the room, and Oliver declared the night finished. Ezra found Katie to bid her goodbye and kissed her on the cheek. "I'll see you Sunday!" he said cheerfully before departing.

Oliver observed their interaction, and his eyes narrowed. "I didn't know you and Gilder were friends."

She shrugged. "Not exactly friends, but he is teaching me how to ice skate on Sunday."

"Alone? Or with others?'

"Just the two of us," she said.

"What, like a date?" he asked, surprise tinging his voice.

"Yes, like a date. Is it so preposterous that I could have a date?" she said.

He quickly backtracked. "No, of course not. I didn't mean...I was just surprised...I never thought you and Gilder..."

"Relax," she said, smirking. "It's just one date. He knows I'm leaving in a few weeks anyways.

"Right. That," he mumbled. "Right."

"I'm not the only one leaving, I might add. Bea seemed disappointed to hear about your imminent departure."

Oliver's head snapped up. "Did she?"

"That's exactly what she told me. Not that we talked very long."

She read his face carefully, searching it for signs of emotion, but he maintained a surprisingly good poker face. "Interesting," he said, which also provided no further information.

"I never knew you dated her. I'm surprised, I guess. I thought at least if you didn't tell me, the tabloids would."

"Well, you were in St. Mungo's when the whole thing began, so you can be forgiven for missing the headline of _Witch Weekly_ or _Charmed,"_ he said. "As for me not telling you, it never really came up." He seemed uncomfortable. "I thought she was staying in Brazil permanently when she didn't come back in May."

"It's too bad then, that we're leaving so soon," she said, echoing Bea.

"It is what it is," he said, shrugging.

"Katie, we're leaving," called out a rather impatient sounding Angelina.

Both Katie and Oliver turned to see Angelina standing near the doorway, only a few feet away from Kira and Alicia who were in the midst of a rather intimate-looking conversation. Angelina's tolerance was rapidly, visibly thinning.

"I'd better go," she said.

"Seems like it," he said. "By the way, how long have they been together?"

She sighed. "It's a long story. I'll tell you another time."

Without thinking, she wrapped him in tight embrace. She often hugged her friends, but outside of Quidditch celebrations, she'd never been very physically affectionate with Oliver. He stiffened in surprise, but quickly relaxed and pulled her in tighter.

"I'll see you soon," he murmured, his breath tickling her neck.

She nodded, and after a few more seconds, pulled away. As she followed Angelina and Alicia out the door, she glanced behind. Oliver's gaze was still upon her.

On Sunday, Katie arrived at the Leaky Cauldron several minutes early for her outing with Ezra, feeling rather proud of that particular accomplishment. Predictably, the moment Angelina discovered she had a date, she'd swooped in and sorted through nearly every item of clothing Katie owned to find the perfect outfit. Then came the hair and makeup, and at that point, Katie was congratulating herself on the decision to lie about the start time of her date. She'd told Angelina they were supposed to meet at quarter to one, and those fifteen minutes proved to be crucial buffer time.

At exactly one o'clock (and what was it with Quidditch players and their impeccable timing?) Ezra marched into the pub. She spotted him easily, as he towered over nearly everyone else in the room, especially Tom, the rather diminutive landlord and barkeeper who greeted him. She waved to him, and the moment he laid his eyes on her, his face broke into an easy smile.

"Katherine, dearest," he said by way of greeting, and she rolled her eyes.

"It's only a first date, Ezra," she warned him. "Don't get ahead of yourself."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he replied, though his smile broadened. His gaze took in her appearance, and he whistled appreciatively. "You look fantastic."

She blushed despite herself, and filed a mental note to thank Angelina for her advice. She still wore jeans, but the ruffled red chemise was definitely a step above her usual dress, and Angelina had snatched it from the bottom of a large pile of clothing Katie hadn't touched in months. "You don't look too bad yourself," she said in return, and it wasn't a lie. His tight-fitting shirt stretched across an impressive set of muscles, and she understood why even professional Quidditch players like Fridgeir might dread playing him. Marcus Flint never stood a chance.

"I do try on occasion," he said. "Now, what do you say we head over to the rink? I imagine you'll need to rent skates." She noticed he carried a drawstring bag, and something vaguely shoe-shaped bulged at the sides. "Have you taken the tube before?"

"I am muggleborn, so yes," she said.

"Perfect," he said. "You wouldn't believe how many of my friends are still completely inept at navigating around muggle London. Just follow me."

Ezra led her out of Leaky Cauldron and onto the streets of London. Fortunately the nearest tube stop wasn't far, and they only had to change lines once, so they arrived at the correct stop within half an hour. Ezra filled the time by giving her advice on skating technique, venturing into more detail than she would ever need. Frankly, she would consider the afternoon a success if she only fell a few times.

The skating rink was surprisingly empty for a Sunday afternoon. As Ezra led her to the rental booth, she observed the people around her. People of all ages and ability levls skated around the rink; some small children zoomed around the ice, weaving in and out of the adults who skated at a much more cautious pace. One of the adults, a man who looked to be in his late thirties or early forties, stumbled fell as she watched. The woman he was with laughed and held out a hand to pull him up again.

Her own first steps in skates were stumbling. Even on the cushy floor, she still wobbled as she balanced herself on top of the blades. The moment she stepped onto the ice itself, she slipped against the smooth surface and would have fallen flat on her ass if Ezra weren't right behind waiting to catch her. As he held her, she understood why he had suggested this as a first date. She would literally be falling into his arms.

To his credit, Ezra maintained his composure as she clutched the boards around the rink for balance. As another small child sped past her, moving along the ice with infuriating ease, she laughed a little. "I'm a disaster," she declared, shuffling forward hesitantly on the skates.

"You're like every beginner there is," he assured her. "Let go of the boards and move slowly. You'll pick it up quickly enough."

She was skeptical, but she released the boards and resumed her slow skate around the edge. As she moved forward, Ezra moved in front of her but skated backwards so that he was still facing her. He glided easily, glancing behind from to time to time to ensure he wouldn't run into anyone. Nearly everyone else was skating faster than them, so he didn't have much to worry about.

By her fifth lap around the rink, her confidence had grown enough to allow her to maintain a steady pace. Ezra smiled encouragingly and increased his own speed, urging her to follow him. She began to genuinely enjoy herself as she skated, and she settled into a rhythm. This isn't so bad, she thought to herself.

Then Ezra, spotting a kid fallen on the ice before him, abruptly skidded to a standstill, and she realized she had no way of stopping and very little idea of how to turn quickly. "Ezra!" she cried out and she slid forward, unable to brake, and his eyes widened in surprise just before she came crashing into him.

They both fell to the ground with a loud thud. His body cushioned her landing, but he had no such luck. He smacked against the ice and the two of them slid several feet before friction finally halted their progress. She lay there for a couple moments, processing her situation. Then she realized he hadn't moved.

"Ezra," she said quietly. No response. "Ezra," she repeated, worry tinging her voice.

He groaned softly and threw an arm over his face. "What?"

"Are you hurt?" she asked.

"Only my pride," he groused. "I haven't fallen like that in ages." He began to sit up, and she realized she was still lying on top of him. She scrambled off to allow him to fully sit. He shook his arms out and prodded the back of his head cautiously with his hand.

"You sure you're okay?" she said, noting how he winced as his fingers made contact with his head.

"A little bruised, I think," he admitted. "I know how to fall, but I didn't have time to prepare myself. Plus, it's harder to control your descent when you have a person falling with you."

"I'm so sorry," she said apologetically. "If you want to stop and go home or something, I completely understand. I can't believe-"

"Katie," he said with a vaguely amused expression. "Don't worry about it. I've had much, much worse, and really, my pride is the only victim of this situation. I can handle it."

She smiled cautiously. "If you're sure."

"Yes, I'm sure," he reassured her A mischievous twinkle entered his eyes. "Besides, it's not every day that a girl literally trips over herself to get closer to me."

She swatted him gently. "I only did that because I didn't know how to stop, which I blame you for. All that talk about skating technique, and you didn't mention it."

"Ah, well," he said grinning. "I think we're about even then, don't you?"

Around them, people skated uninterrupted. They simply sidestepped Ezra and Katie, although several people shot them curious looks. "You need help?" asked one woman.

Ezra waved aside her concern. "We're fine," he assured her, and the woman skated away. He maneuvered himself into standing once more and held a hand out. "Let's keep skating. I'll show you how to stop."

She grabbed his hand and he pulled her up. She slipped on the ice, but he'd grounded himself and they both kept their footing. Somehow, she found herself surrounded by Ezra's arms as they held her steady. He towered a full head above her, so she needed to tilt her head back to see his face. When she looked up, his face bore a much more serious expression.

"You know, there is one way you could make me feel better," he said thoughtfully.

"Oh, really?" she said.

"I've always heard that the best thing for a bruised ego is a kiss from a beautiful girl," he said with such sincerity she almost believed him.

"I think your ego is still intact," she said dryly. "That being said..." She wrapped her hands around his neck to pull him down so she could place a chaste kiss on his lips. It was short and sweet, shortened even further by the whistling coming their way.

"Save some for the rest of us, Ezzie," shouted a man skating by them. Ezra pulled away to glare at the man. "Fuck off, Cutler," he replied angrily.

"Original," said Cutler. He turned around in the middle of the rink and skated back to them, skidding to a halt. "That the best they do in Canada?"

"We usually follow it up with our fists, so it tends to do the trick," he said cheerfully. "I wouldn't want to embarrass you right now, though."

Cutler snorted. "Yeah, you wish. We've booked the rink for a game in half an hour if you want to join in, really prove yourself." He nodded at Katie. "You could join too, if you wanted."

"I think I'll pass," said Katie quickly, eager to avoid any further humiliation. I've never seen hockey before, though, so I wouldn't mind watching."

Cutler grinned. "What do you say, Ezzie?"

"I say you better have some ice in the locker room because you're going to need it after I'm through."

"I'll tell the others you're joining. Should be a good game," he said happily and skated easily away.

Ezra turned to Katie. "I hope you don't mind. If they've got the rink booked, we'd have to stop anyways."

She shook her head. "It's not a problem at all. Maybe you could explain some of the rules to me first so I don't seem like a complete idiot."

They resumed their skating, and Ezra showed her the snowplow technique of stopping. It was hardly elegant, but it worked and seemed less likely to result in a fall than the other skidding method. He spent the rest of their time on the ice explaining the rules of hockey before excusing himself to go to the locker room to put on pads.

"You wear pads?" she said, wrinkling her nose. "I thought hockey was supposed to be rougher than Quidditch. If you're wearing protection..."

"Quidditch doesn't normally involved as much full body checking as hockey," explained Ezra. "You'll see."

Some of the staff cleared the rink and placed two small nets on either end of the rink. Ezra had explained the purpose behind each of the lines on the rink as well as all of the equipment, so when a group of more than a dozen people skated onto the ice, she understood what each person was doing. She spotted Ezra easily in one of the defense positions, and given that the beater position corresponded most with defense, she was not surprised. He waved at her and smiled, revealing a mouth guard covering his teeth. Then the game began.

She'd never seen a game of hockey before and so had no point of comparison, but she recognized that all of these people were at least decent skaters, better than the majority of people who had occupied the rink not too long ago. The teams appeared to be balanced so that the better players were distributed evenly. Ezra definitely fit into the category of "better player". Not only was he an excellent skater (he must have been moving painfully slowly to accommodate her earlier) but he also outweighed every other person by a not insignificant amount. She guessed that none of the other people were professional athletes like him, and while all were in good shape, they couldn't compete with a man who spent hours and hours training six days a week. He also played ruthlessly, and she winced more than once as he slammed another player against the boards.

After the first period, everyone shuffled off the rink. She found Ezra gulping down water from a massive water bottle. "You're pretty good," she told him.

He laughed. "In comparison to these guys, sure. This is just an informal group, and people play when they can. Pit me against an actual hockey player, and I wouldn't stand a chance."

"Are actual hockey players as big as you?" she asks skeptically.

He chugs the last of his water before responding. "Some of them, but it's not all about size and strength. My puckwork isn't that great, used to be much better when I played more often. Now, well, I spend most of time playing a different sport."

"Speaking of which," she said, lowering her voice, "are any of these people wizards? Do they know what you do?"

He shook his head. "I suppose it's possible one of them is hiding like me, but I doubt it. I tell everyone I'm a personal trainer-I have the knowledge and body to back it up, plus it's not high profile. Some wizards in Canada play hockey, but I've yet to meet another one on this side of the pond. There aren't even many muggles who play in England."

"So, you just lie to them?" she asked.

"Well, short of breaking the Statute of Secrecy, what can I do? It's not that bad. It's no worse than talking to cousins back home. I've even gone out for drinks with a few of the guys-Cutler, Perry, Wesley. We have a good time, and I'm careful."

"It must be weird, though, having to hide so much."

"Everybody's hiding something," he said, frowning. "I just hide a bit more around here." Someone called for the group to move back onto the ice, so he shrugged. "I'm on again. See you on the other side."

As he skated off, she considered his words. In truth, while of course she didn't care about anyone's blood status, the idea of being a half-blood confused her. Because the statute, witches and wizards were only allowed to inform their non-magical immediate family about their life. Even while dating, they had to lie, although once engaged, they were allowed to reveal the truth. She knew some people broke the rules and told their partners before engagement, but they still needed to lie for a long time. Even once they knew the truth, it could be difficult to coexist. Few witches or wizards knew how to drive, and muggles couldn't use magical forms of transportation. Leanne was a half-blood, and she'd told Katie about the arguments her parents had when her Hogwarts letter arrived. Her mother, a muggle, believed Leanne should receive a muggle education as well as magical one and had fought with both her husband and Dumbledore to include some elements of non-magical education in the curriculum such as math and science. In the end, they compromised by sending Leanne to summer school. While Katie's parents were both muggles and valued a muggle education, they had little knowledge of the wizarding world and so were unable to compare the benefits of each. For Katie's part, she fell out of touch with her friends from primary school and interacted almost exclusively with other witches and wizards. For a time last year she'd worked as a waitress, but she'd been wary of new friendships while Voldemort and the Ministry were still ruthlessly tracking down every muggleborn they could find.

Katie watched the second and third periods more pensively. She observed the good-natured friendship between Ezra and Cutler and several others she didn't know, and she wondered if any of them suspected how much Ezra hid from them. She thought about Charlie and his strong belief that the magical and non-magical should not mix, lest a muggle go searching for danger they could never defeat. It seemed reasonable, but then again, she wondered if this was reasonable, this hiding from friends. The issue of integration was more complicated than she had initially assumed.

She'd been looking into specifics about the people involved in Oliver's attack, but perhaps she needed to look further into the history of integration movements. Nothing existed in a vacuum, and no idea was entirely new. Assuming the attackers were involved in a violent, anti-muggle integrationist movement, they would have drawn on previous movements, and understanding them would provide better insight into a potential present day organization.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pen and the piece of parchment she always kept on her person in the hope that one day it would glow with warmth. So far, it had remained cool and unremarkable, no different than an ordinary piece of paper. No longer. She was done waiting for Igor to initiate their conversation.

 _It's Marianne,_ she wrote. _I have more questions for you_.

The ink sat on the page, damp and glossy, until suddenly it vanished. Words appeared on the page in a messy scrawl that was barely legible.

 _I am visiting our mutual friend tomorrow. We talk then._

The words lingered for several moments before disappearing. Tomorrow evening then.

"Katie, Katie!" called Ezra as he skated towards her, eyes bright and cheeks red. "Game's over now. What did you think?"

She must have missed the final moments of the game. "If this is how you grew up, it explains a lot," she said.

He grinned. "Yeah, suppose so." He noticed the piece of parchment sitting in her hand. "What's that about?" he asked.

She plastered a smile on her face. "Nothing, just thought of an idea for a radio piece."

"Great," he said. "I'll get changed out of these pads, and then what do you say you try another few laps around the rink?"

"Sounds good to me," she said, and he skated off towards the locker rooms. She folded away the piece of parchment, tucking it into her jacket pocket. Her fingers clutched the paper as if hoping it would glow once more.

Everyone kept something hidden, Ezra had said, and Katie was no exception.


	14. Trust

**A/N: Sorry this took so long. I've been writing other things, and work has kept be busy (and I don't have homework to procrastinate on by writing this story). I promise I will finish this story, though, because I know how much unfinished works suck. This chapter is also a little short, but the following ones will be longer. I just need to keep advancing the plot.**

They left the rink at six when a group of small children pours onto the ice for a mite hockey game. Katie waited hesitantly by the bleachers as Ezra returned her skates and chatted with the man working the rental desk. Her plans with Amit and Leanne didn't begin until eight, leaving two hours free. Once he finished his conversation with Billy at the desk, Ezra returned to her with an easy smile on his face.

"Where to?" he said.

"Are we doing dinner?" she asked.

His face fell, but he quickly recovered. "I assumed so, unless you already had plans."

"No, no," she reassured him. "Nothing until eight. I just thought I'd give you an out in case you were already sick of me."

"Not likely," he said, the grin returning to his face. "In that case, I'll leave the decision to you. Anywhere is good, really, London or Hogsmeade. I mean, if you wanted Madame Puddifoots…"

"Merlin no," she said, and he laughed. "Let's go to Hogsmeade. I haven't been there in a long time." Not since the battle of Hogwarts, she realized. She wondered if it would feel different, knowing how many of the people who walked into the Hog's Head died that night, how they would never drink butterbeer across from Madame Rosmerta or comb the shelves of Honeydukes for the strangest sweets imaginable.

If she appeared uncertain, it escaped Ezra's attention. After finding an appropriately secluded location, they apparated together onto the entrance of Hogsmeade. The sun still hung low in the sky, illuminating the village in soft, iridescent light and casting long shadows. Around them, people strolled from shop to shop, discussing everything from the possible reopening of Zonkos to the latest Quidditch match. For once, in their muggle clothes, she and Ezra stuck out in the crowd.

"This place is so wonderful," said Ezra softly from beside her. "I always forget."

"Is there a place like this in Canada? Or North America in general?" she inquired, curious.

"A few," said. "Ville de Mer is the only one in Canada, not too far from Montreal. There's also a wizarding Salem, which is perhaps ten miles from muggle Salem. I know there are others farther South or West, but I've never been."

"I sometimes forget how massive everything is over there, how much land there is."

"Yeah,' he agreed almost wistfully, "England can feel a bit cramped in comparison. Before I discovered I was a wizard and even after for a few years, I spent summers on the reservation in Manitoba with my grandparents, and once you passed the edge of town, you could just see for kilometers and kilometers. So much empty space, all uninhabited, all wild."

"A reservation?" she said, feeling like she ought to know what he was talking about.

"My mom's side is Cree, Native American you might call it. There are designated areas where many First Nations people live. My mom hasn't lived in Peguis for a long time, but my grandparents still do."

"I had no idea," said Katie, shaking her head. "I guess, I know next to nothing about North American history."

"No worries," he said. "It's very beautiful there, in some parts. You should see it some time."

"Hmm," she said, unsure if he had just inadvertently invited her to his home and even more uncertain of how she ought to feel about this invitation. "Let's stick with dinner for now. With how hungry I am, I'm sure nothing would look more beautiful than a full plate of food."

"I know just the place then," he said happily. "The Leaping Manticore."

He led her down the main road, the early autumn air already cooling around them. They turned down a side street, one she'd walked past many a time during her Hogwarts years but never thoroughly explored, and at the end of the road, Ezra grabbed her arm and guided her into a small, rickety looking building; a wooden sign painted with a growling manticore swung gently in the breeze and rattled as the door slammed behind them.

Inside, a roaring fireplace warmed the atmosphere. The building was divided into two sections, one a cozy looking restaurant, the other a less cozy bar. Ezra walked into the restaurant portion where perhaps a dozen tables sat, half of them occupied. A waiter brought them a menu, and Ezra greeted her by name.

"Good to see you again," she told Ezra.

"It's good to be back," said Ezra. "This is Katie, by the way. Katie, this is Melissa."

"You come here often?" surmised Katie.

"When I first arrived in England, I was pretty shit at cooking. I got better," he said with a wry smile.

"The usual?" asked Melissa.

"Of course," said Ezra.

"I'll bring you a menu, Katie," said Melissa, turning away, but Katie decided to be adventurous. "I'll have what he's having," she told Melissa.

Ezra raised his eyebrows. "You sure?"

"Why not?" she said, shrugging. "Is it that bad?"

"No it's not bad, it's just...you'll see."

When the food arrived half an hour later, she did see. She saw two full plates of steak and potatoes and a heaping mound of something vaguely resembling pork on the side. Melissa set both plates in front of Ezra, and informed them Katie's dish would be right out.

"That's all for you?" Katie gaped at the sheer quantity of food in front of him.

"I'm a big guy," he said defensively. "I need protein. If I don't maintain this," he gestured at his body, "then guys like Fridgeir won't be scared of me."

"You think they're scared of you?" she said.

"I know they are," he said matter-of-factly and she laughed a little. "It's why I made it into the league in the first place. I might not have the same precision as some of the smaller guys, but I can hit a bludger harder than anyone else."

"Humble," she remarked.

"Never been my strong suit," he replied with a wink. Then her two plates of food arrived and he smirked at the disbelief written across her face. "Dig in," he said cheerfully.

The steak was marinated in a tangy sauce that tingled against Katie's tongue. Even though she knew she could never finish that much food, she planned on savoring every bite she took. She enjoyed the pork as well as the steak (though it fell into the realm of just good rather than exceptionally good) and a thin, delicious layer of garlic coated the potatoes.

"How do you like it?" he asked after a quiet minute in which they both concentrated on the consumption of the food in front of them.

She finished chewing a chunk of steak and opened her mouth to reply when a familiar voice called out her name. "Katie?"

She twisted around in her chair to find the owner of the voice and her eyes widened when Oliver Wood's equally surprised gaze met hers. Like her, he wore muggle clothes, though they were more stylish than his usual fare. He leaned on his cane as he stood, left leg clearly bearing the brunt of his weight. Then Bea emerged from the shadows to stand next to him and placed a casual hand on his arm. She wore a flowery dress, slightly too fancy for the hearty atmosphere of the restaurant, but flattering nonetheless.

"Wood!" exclaimed Ezra. "Fancy seeing you here. Here to join our little date?"

Katie winced, and Oliver's face twisted into a grimace. Bea's hand squeezed Oliver's arm.

"Not likely," he said to Ezra. "We can go somewhere else," he began, but Ezra cut him off.

"Nonsense," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Why would you do that?"

Oliver appeared to struggle with that question for a while. Bea tugged gently on Oliver' arm, but ultimately Oliver's manners won out. They chose a table nearly ten feet away from Katie and Ezra. Oliver's side of the table faced Katie, though with Ezra's considerable height, he remained largely hidden from view. Katie and Ezra resumed their light-hearted discussion about the food although in the relative quiet of the restaurant, snatches of Oliver's and Bea's conversation drifted over.

"The chaser from school, right?" Katie overheard Bea ask.

""Yes, one of them," replied Oliver, and for some odd reason, his words stung. Nothing justified her reaction-she had been one of three chasers on the team, and Oliver had played with others before she joined the team as well. Still, she disliked being lumped in with all of the others he played with. As far as she knew, none of the others (and certainly not Angelina or Alicia) still shared as close a relationship with him.

She refocused her attention on Ezra and nodded along as he explained the finer points of the hockey game she'd witnessed earlier. Then Oliver mentioned her name again, and her ears strained to hear him clearly.

"...Katie visited me nearly daily for a while," he explained to Bea. Bea's back faced Katie, so Katie couldn't see her reaction. "She's going to Romania as well."

Bea's shoulders tensed, and her next words escaped Katie's ears.

A sudden rush of sound invaded the space as several people in the midst of an exceptionally loud discussion walked into the building. Katie caught only snatches of what Oliver said next.

"...brother...healer training over there...apprentice."

"Katie? Everything alright?"

Katie's attention snapped back to Ezra, who was staring expectantly at her. She tugged at her hair self-consciously. "Sorry, those people just distracted me for a moment."

Ezra accepted her excuse without question, and she focused on him. The food sank heavily in her stomach like a lead weight-a delicious weight, but a weight nonetheless-and she gave up on the food sitting before her after finishing perhaps a third of what lay on the plate.

Eventually, the conversation turned to Katie's current work. When she mentioned working with Lee Jordan, he seemed impressed.

"I spent most of last year back in Canada, but I finagled the radio a bit so I could pick up _Potterwatch_ ," he explained. "What he did took guts."

Katie nodded. Lee, along with most of her friends, had faced varying degrees of danger throughout the past years, although _Potterwatch_ certainly placed Lee under a particular spotlight.

"I mean, I know you stayed here and you're a muggleborn, so I'm sure you experienced your fair share of frightening moments," Ezra continued.

"A few," she said shortly.

"I mean, I can't imagine fighting at the battle of Hogwarts or anything. I think I could have done it, but it must have been terrifying."

"It was," she said softly. "I've never been so scared in my life."

Ezra froze, a bit of steak still dangling from his fork. "You were there?" he sputtered out at last.

She nodded. "Harry Potter and I were on the same Quidditch team throughout my time at Hogwarts. I joined Dumbledore's Army my sixth year, and I helped the Order last year when I could, before I went on the run. When I got the call, all of us from the team went to fight."

"Holy shit," he said flatly. "That's...that's incredible."

"It is what it is," she said, stabbing a potato slice rather viciously. "Incredible isn't what I would use to describe the experience, though."

"No, no," he said quickly. "Sorry. I mean, that takes incredible courage. I'm sure the experience was awful."

"All of my friends did it as well," she said casually. "I didn't do nearly as much as Fred or George or Lee or other actual members of the Order, but we all contributed."

"Fred and George Weasley?" he said. When she nodded, he explained, "I remember them from the radio show, and then of course there was the joke shop. I thought maybe they would reappear on Lee's new program-

"Not likely," said Katie in a clipped tone. "Fred died, and George has been out of commission ever since."

"Oh," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Me too," said Katie. "Do you mind if we talk about something else?"

"Sure," said Ezra hurriedly, and he began a much more harmless discussion of Quidditch. She appreciated his understanding-as much as she liked Ezra, a conversation about Fred and about her time during the war certainly wasn't a first date conversation, or even a second or third date conversation. He made a deliberate effort to keep the conversation light after, and by the time they finished dinner, she'd nearly forgotten that part of the evening. At last, it was more than half past seven, and if she didn't want to be late to meet Amit and Leanne, she needed to leave.

They walked out of the restaurant and into the brisk evening air. As they began to walk down the road, Ezra pulled her to the side, to a patch of grass beneath a tall oak which appeared at least as old as most of the buildings around them.

"I, uh, I had a really good time tonight," he said. "I know that's not the most original things to say, but it's true."

"You know I'm leaving soon," she reminded him gently.

"I know, I know. But not for a few more weeks, right? Maybe you have time in there for round two. It doesn't have to be ice skating, in case you didn't like that." His eyes were earnest, and his demeanor suggested uncertainty instead of his usual confidence.

"I did like the ice skating," she said. "The hockey was fun. Dinner was delicious." She paused. "You weren't so bad yourself."

"Not so bad," he said. "I suppose I can live with that."

"I hope you can, because it's the most you're going to get right now." Then she added, "Well, that and-"

Without further warning, she stood on tiptoes and pulled him down to kiss him. His lips were warm against hers, and the feel of them lingered even after she broke away.

"Is that a yes?" he said after a long moment.

"I'd say so," she said.

"Well, in that case, I do have tickets for a Falcon's game. Box seats. You could bring a friend and we could meet after."

"You think I'm going to turn down free, prime Quidditch seats? Have you learned nothing today?" She nudged him gently. "Plus, I need to see if you're worth all the hype."

He said nothing, just leaned down and kissed her once more, this time with his hands on the small of her back. When they separated, he smiled hazily.

"I'll be in touch," he murmured, and then with a pop, he disapparated away.

She stood outside for a moment, processing the events of the last few minutes. A soft murmur of people echoed in the background, washing over the easy, casual ambiance of the night. She ignored the the crunch of gravel down the road as someone approached until a hand tapped on her shoulder, and then she whipped around, wand out.

"Hey, easy there," said Oliver, tapping her wand away.

"Oliver," she said in surprise, lowering her wand, "what are you doing out here?"

He wrapped an arm around his body to shield himself against the wind. "Didn't get a chance to say goodbye," he said.

"Well, I didn't want to interrupt your date," she said, fiddling with the edge of her blouse. "I'm assuming that was a date."

Oliver shrugged. "It's complicated. Partially because I'm leaving so soon, but, well...it's complicated."

"You're just full of complications, aren't you Oliver Wood?" she said.

He offered a half-smile. "Despite my best efforts."

"You weren't so complicated back in school. It was all Quidditch all the time. A pain in the ass, but simple." She returned his smile. "It's not a bad thing to be confused."

"And you?" he said, tilting his head towards the empty area next to her. "Is Gilder complicated as well?"

"So far, no," she responded frankly. "Except for the whole leaving thing. It's the first proper date I've had in, well, since the whole necklace incident."

His eyes widened in surprised, and she chuckled. "Don't be so shocked. I've had plenty to occupy myself with since then."

"That's fair," he said. "I, uh, I hope you had a good time."

"Try saying that with a little more enthusiasm," she teased. "No need to sound like you're choking on a stale piece of toast." When Oliver remained quiet, she asked, "Is there a problem?"

"It's nothing. I suppose you and Gilder strike me as an odd couple, is all."

"Oliver Wood, dealer of romantic advice and columnist for _Witch Weekly_."

He snorted. "I'll keep that in mind." He tapped his cane on the ground.

She gestured back to the restaurant. "You should get back to your date. Wouldn't want her wondering if you've decided to ditch her for a Puddlemere groupie."

He frowned. "I would never do anything like that."

She laughed and nudged his arm. "A joke, Oliver, a joke." His expression relaxed. "I actually have to go. I need to meet Leanne and Amit for drinks in London, so I'll be late if I delay any longer."

"Right," he said. "I understand."

Then, unexpectedly, he pulled her into an awkward, one-armed hug. He lacked the overt confidence of Ezra as well as his considerable height and bulk, but his familiarity still offered warmth and comfort in way unavailable during a first date. She allowed herself to sink into his embrace for a moment before pulling away.

"I really do have to go," she told him.

He nodded. "Enjoy your drinks."

"Thanks."

He disappeared into the restaurant, and, focusing on her usual spot, she apparated into the heart of London.

When she arrived at McLellan's, Amit sat waiting in a booth nursing a drink from a silver flask she'd seen him carry before. As she slid into the seat across from him, she pointed at it. "Trying to save some cash?" she asked.

His forehead crinkled. "What?"

"I mean, you're bringing your own drinks into a bar to avoid paying, right?" she said.

He laughed. "Something like that, I guess." He tipped the flask all the way back and grimaced as he swallowed. "The drinks here taste better, though."

A waitress arrived and took their orders. Amit tucked his flask away and tapped his fingers against the table. "Igor will be in town tomorrow," he said casually.

"I know," she said. "He wanted to speak in person."

"Among other things," Amit said. "He's been awfully chatty lately."

"Has he?" asked Katie incredulously. "I never saw him as a particularly gregarious person."

"He's not," said Amit. "I think he's worried about something, but he's not willing to share the information yet."

"Well, if he won't share with you, I imagine he'll be even less inclined to talk with me."

"Don't be so sure," said Amit. The waitress arrived with their drinks, and he sipped his Manhattan coolly. "He certainly trusts me more than he trusts you, but he's also rather annoyingly insistent on trying to protect me. He might withhold potentially dangerous information in an attempt to keep me safe."

Katie regarded him quizzically. "Why would he try to protect you?"

"I have a history of making foolish decisions," said Amit, and a note of finality entered his voice. "Oh, look, it's Leanne."

Leanne waved to the two of them and occupied the seat next to Amit and across from Katie. A flush lay high across her cheeks from the cold air, and she shivered despite the bar's warmth.

"I'm glad you made it, Katie," Leanne said with an almost impish grin. "I thought Gilder might have proved to be too much of a distraction."

"Hardly," said Katie, and Leanne raised her eyebrows. "The date was nice, and he's a good man, but if I'm leaving in three weeks, I plan on spending as much time as possible with my friends."

"You had a date?" asked Amit.

"Why the tone of surprise?" she responded drily. He sputtered and Leanne laughed and patted him gently on the arm. "I won't hold it against you. And yes, I did have a date. It went well, I think."

She recounted the details of the day's events, from her first foray into skating to the hockey game to the dinner and encounter with Oliver both in and outside the restaurant. The two of them listened patiently, and Leanne asked questions in appropriate places. When Katie mentioned the kiss goodnight, Leanne giggled, and Amit eyed her skeptically.

"Did he sweep you off your feet?" she asked. "I bet he could, with all of those muscles."

"I have no doubt he could bench press my weight with room to spare, but it wasn't really that sort of a kiss."

"No burning, fiery, passionate lovemaking?" teased Amit.

Both Katie and Leanne regarded Amit coolly, and he retreated into his drink with a small smirk on his face.

"Are you seeing him again?" asked Leanne, deliberately ignoring Amit.

"Actually, he said he might be able to get me tickets for one of his games. Box seats. You could come with, if you wanted"

Leanne's squeal reverberated shrilly in Katie's head, and Amit even clapped his hands over his ears. Katie grinned at her friend's enthusiasm despite the lingering pain in her ears. "I didn't know you would be that excited."

"Are you joking?" exclaimed Leanne. "Box seats? I never dreamed I'd have a chance like this."

"I just didn't know you cared that much about Quidditch," said Katie. "I know you showed up for my games and for Ravenclaw at school, but do you even have a favorite team?"

"Not exactly," admitted Leanne. "But still, any view that spectacular-I'd be a fool to pass it up."

"I'll have to invite Angelina as well," mused Katie. "I'm assuming he's offering multiple tickets; he certainly implied that was the case."

"Well," said Leanne, "if you have an extra ticket and you feel like offering it to me, know that I will accept most gladly."

Katie laughed. "If I have an extra ticket, I promise you it's yours."

"Good," said Leanne. "I'll hold you to that promise."

The three of them whiled the night away with casual discussion, including a spirited debate over the merits of a rising French band, _Les Pavots Rouges_ , which Amit loved and Leanne despised and Katie had heard once on the radio. When they finally called it a night, all of them with jobs in the morning, Leanne faltered as she stepped out the door. Both Katie and Amit reached out to brace her, and she giggled giddily.

"I think I should have skipped that last martini," confessed Leanne, in a decidedly too loud voice.

"Maybe the last two," agreed Amit.

Katie frowned. "You're not apparating like this."

"I'm fine," Leanne assured them, but her stagger belied her assurance. "Alright, perhaps not totally fine."

"I'll take you back," said Amit, and Katie's frown deepened.

"I can handle it," she said to Amit. "You don't need to."

"It's not a problem," he said confidently, sliding an arm around Leanne's shoulders. Leanne, for her part, melted into Amit's support.

"He knows where I live, Katie. He's been there before," she told her.

Reluctantly, Katie relented, and Amit smiled gently at her. "Thanks, Katie." He placed an arm on her shoulder. "I promise I'll get her back safely." He slid his hand down her arm to squeeze her own hand. Something crinkled in her hand, sharp, flexible edges matched with smooth surfaces. When he released her, the object remained. As Amit and Leanne walked away, Katie opened her hand to reveal a slip of paper. After flattening the wrinkled ball into its original square, she read what Amit had written. It was an address and a time, presumably for Katie's meeting with Igor tomorrow. After the location, the words " _wear this, trust me_ " were scrawled. Next to the paper was a small pin, a delicate, paste flower, clearly ornamental.

She clipped it onto her shirt and apparated home, but the moment she arrived back in the flat, she removed it and produced her wand for inspection. Preliminary evaluation revealed a clear magical aura surrounding it, but not a malignant one. This pin contained none of the dark magic of the necklace, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She liked Amit, trusted him as a friend of Leanne's and increasingly a friend of her own, but people could be controlled or blackmailed into horrible situations.

Unable to ascertain any more specifics despite her attempts at various revelation charms, she decided to confront Amit in person following her conversation with Igor the next day. She would wear the pin while talking with Igor, only because she believed he valued both her safety and the safety of his friend. Still the secrecy surrounding the exchange irked her, and she would be sure to express her displeasure in spades the next day.

Still, it was late, and with an uneasy pit in her stomach, she crawled into bed and drifted into a restless sleep.


	15. Luck

**A/N: So it's been a while and I'm basically done with college. We'll see how the real world treats me in terms of free time, but I do not abandon stories. I've been writing other things in the meantime, including some stuff related to this one, but I'm feeling more engaged with this one than I have in a long time. There should be some more updates over the next few weeks most likely. We'll see how much I care about finals.**

Unlike before, Katie arrived at the designated location for her meeting with Igor in midafternoon. The location itself surprised her, as she found herself at a small cafe in the even smaller village of Portersville not thirty kilometers from the outskirts of London. She'd actually flown there after placing a very, very strong concealment charm on herself, but didn't want to risk apparition into a place she'd never visited before, especially one with such a strong muggle presence.

When she entered the cafe, the hostess looked expectantly at her. "Just you?" she asked.

"Actually, I'm supposed to be meeting someone," she said. "But I don't think he's here just yet."

The server narrowed her eyes. "Your name's not Katie, by any chance, is it?"

Katie nodded. "It is."

"Well, Mr. Smith is actually already here. He always sits in the back room, reserves the whole space." She gestured with the menu clutched in her hands. "Just follow me."

Katied followed the hostess past the main cafe area and into a small room separated by a beaded curtain which clattered as they parted it. Igor was indeed sitting at a table, a cup of coffee steaming gently beneath his chin. His one good eye flickered between the two of them.

"Zank you, May," he said gruffly, and May set the menu down on the table and left the two of them alone in the small back room. Three other tables stood vacant in the room, each decorated with cheap lace tablecloths and vases of dried, fragrant flowers. It was pretty, in a sort of quaint way.

"Should I bother asking why we're here? Or are we going to move on to the next place in a minute?"

Igor sipped his coffee indelicately, slurping at the hot liquid, and a thin layer of coffee decorated his beard and mustache when he set down the cup. "No, ve are going to talk here," he said.

"We are?" His response genuinely shocked her. "But it's so…

"Public?" he finished with a raised brow. "Yes, it is. But I have enchanted zis room so zat ve vill not be disturbed."

She gaped at him. "But this is a muggle establishment. Surely that's in violation of the Statute of Secrecy and a dozen other laws besides."

"It vould be in violation of ze statute, yes, but May is no ordinary muggle." When Katie stared blankly at him in response, he rolled his eyes, as if the answer ought to be self-explanatory. "She is a, how do you say _pa angliski_ , a sqvib, yes? So magic is no secret for her."

"And how the hell did you figure that out?"

"As it so happens, my mozer was not the worst daughter in ze family, running off viz a Russian. Her sister, who vas much younger zan her, vas a sqvib. She vas perhaps six years old ven my mozer ran away, and she never knew I existed until I tracked her down. So, ve have an arrangement, she and I." He shrugged. "It vorks."

"So do you other family in this area?"

"Just her," said Igor. "She vas married, for a time, but it vas never going to vork. He vas a muggle, and she couldn't explain her parents to him. My grandparents."

"Well," said Katie, treading cautiously as she always did around Igor, "it's wonderful that you have some connections here."

"It is vat it is," he said. "Family isn't everything. Blood only gets you so far."

They sat in silence for a moment. Katie cleared her throat when the silence dragged too far, and she fidgeted with the corner of the plastic-sheathed menu May had provided.

"You have found yourself a strange situation," said Igor finally. "Vat I told you before, not much has changed. Vitali's fazer is not pleased viz his son being caught. I have heard talk of mobilization to extract his beloved son from custody, zough I zink zere is not much to fear. Kosovoro is not half ze man he vonce vas."

"Does the ministry know about this connection, about this possibility?"

Igor's expression hardened. "It is not my place to keep track of vat ze English ministry does and does not know."

"Right," she said quickly. "Of course."

He continued speaking, although he spoke more slowly than before, as if he now anticipated resistance on her part. She sensed his mistrust in every carefully chosen word which left his lips, but she drank it in nonetheless.

"No such vorry viz Kir. Kostya vas disappointed in his brozer, but happy he vas arrested for his crimes. As I suspected, zey had not spoken in many, many years. But he keeps track of him, and he believes Kir is not so important zat zey vill come to rescue him."

"And the others?"

"The Bulgarians are nozing, peons at best. Petty criminals."

She frowned at that last statement. "I wouldn't call attempted murder a petty crime."

"In comparison to vat ozers like zem have done, petty. And zey hold no real power."

She tapped her fingers against the table, withholding her disagreement for the moment. Perhaps Igor possessed a different concept of violence, but nothing about their attack on Oliver spoke of anything other than malicious, vicious natures.

Igor continued unperturbed. "It is ze last one zat I do not understand. Zat Petrescu fellow. No von I have talked to has heard of him. Perhaps, I do now know as many Romanians, and I cannot understand ze langvage like I can understand Bulgarian and Ukrainian, but, it bozers me still." He seemed more annoyed with himself than anything else. "My few contacts in Romania vere not able to help."

'Well, you'll know me shortly enough, if that makes any difference," she said.

For the first time since they'd first encountered each other, a look of genuine surprise and confusion flashed across his face. "Vat do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm going to be in Romania to train as a healer. Leaving in three weeks, in fact."

He had schooled his expression into something more neutral at that point, although something still flickered in his eyes. Amusement, perhaps, but also something hungrier and darker. She realized that she had just become something she'd never been to Igor before: useful.

"Zat is an interesting development," he said, and lifted the coffee cup to his mouth to drink deeply. "I did not know zis."

"Well, it's a rather recent decision on my part."

"You have just become a much more interesting figure, Katie Bell," he said.

"Well, that was always my objective," she said, not liking the implication of his statement.

"Ven ve first met, you told me you had vorked for ze Order." His eye probed her expression intently, yet she found his gaze largely unreadable in return. "Many people like to...exaggerate about zeir efforts in ze var, especially vonce it is convenient to do so. Tell me, exactly, vat did you do."

Her skin prickled. "I fought in the Battle of Hogwarts."

"Did you kill anyvone?"

Her breath stuttered over his question, and her heart began thudding rapidly in her chest. "What...what kind of question is that?" she forced through her disbelief.

"A relatively simple von," he said. "A yes or no qvestion."

"Does it matter?"

"Perhaps," said Igor. "Perhaps not. It matters if you have to do it again."

"Well, no," she said finally. "No, I didn't. At least not that I'm aware of. It was quite chaotic at the scene, you know. Hard to keep track of where every spell landed."

The corners of his mouth twitched downwards, but her response did not deter him. "I ask zis because I zink you might be just ze person to help. If you vant to know vy your friend vas attacked, you vill need to learn from me. And it vill not alvays be clean or elegant or safe."

"Vat do you have in mind?" she asked.

"I vant you to be ze von investigating in Romania. It vill be much easier to find information about Petrescu from inside his own country, from his fellow Romanian vizards. I vould guide you, help you figure out who to contact, vat to do. Zis is, assuming of course, zat you still are interested in somezing like zis."

She considered his proposal. Although Amit had introduced Igor to her, he had explained little of his background beyond the fact that they had met in Russia, and that Igor was well connected with political resistance movements in Russia and Eastern Europe. Beyond that, however, she didn't know his motives, his tactics, or even who he truly was. Yet here he was proposing a plan to mentor her through the process of...something. Espionage. Investigation. Murder?

"Why are you offering this?" she asked. "Why are you helping me like this?"

"Because I have spent more zan zirty years fighting men like ze vons who attacked your friend. And I do not vish to be ignorant about any furzer about potential zreats. Zis is a mutual exchange. You can help you friend, and I can stop vatever is brewing before it boils over vonce more." The jagged scar across his brow seemed to jut out further from his skin, and his cloudy eye reflected the light of the coffee shop, refracting it right back at her. She looked away. "But it depends on vat you vant. I vill not vork viz somevon who is not villing."

What did she want? To be a healer, to challenge herself, to uncover the truth. Leanne had often joked that Katie should have been a Ravenclaw, so driven was she to seek knowledge. But Katie always knew that deep down she was a Gryffindor. Above all else, she always needed to help her friends. And Oliver was nothing if not a friend.

"I'll do it," she said. "I'll work with you while I'm over there."

He nodded seriously and drained the last dregs of his coffee. "In zat case, I vill need to know vat you know. Know vat you have done viz the Order." He set down his cup. "Let's start from ze beginning. Tell me about your first mission."

They spent nearly two hours in the coffee shop while she recounted every last detail of her work with the order and while he probed her magical knowledge. The whole time, he listened intently, never passing judgment or indicating pleasure at her responses.

"Ve vill be in touch," he said at last. "I vill visit you vonce you are in Romania. Zen ve vill evaluate your position zere."

She left him alone in the coffee shop, mind still whirling as she returned to her flat. Neither Alicia nor Angelina was home-a fact she was quite grateful for, as the slow-burning tension between her two friends still made any interaction intensely uncomfortable for any in the room-so she settled into the couch for a bit of reading. Now that she had committed to being a healer, it couldn't hurt to brush up on her herbology.

Not half an hour after arriving back home, a knock sounded at the door. She set down her book in confusion-as far she knew, they weren't expecting any visitors-and she called out, "Who is it?"

"Katie, it's me," the voice said. "Amit. Can Let me in."

She opened the door, and Amit barged in, turning around to face her with eyes burning and a furious scowl slashed across his face. She was reminded, suddenly, that just as with Igor, she knew little of Amit's background and his abilities beyond what Leanne had disclosed to her.

"What in Merlin's name are you thinking?" he yelled.

She gaped at him. "I don't even know what you're talking about."

"You working for Igor? Doing his dirty work?"

An icy sensation rushed through her veins, and she lowered her voice. "How do you know about that?"

He gestured at the paste pin he'd given her. "Listening device. I have a matching cufflink-a gift from my father."

She quickly unfastened the pin and thrust it at him. "Get it away from me," she spat. "And don't think I'll be trusting you again so soon after you _spied_ on me."

"It was for your own good," he said. "Igor...with Igor you have no idea what you're getting into."

"Right, and suddenly it's your job to decide what I can and can't handle. You, whom I've only known for a few months."

"It's not you I'm worried about, it's him. It's anyone with him!" He paced across the room. "He was just supposed to supply information, not recruit you to work with him."

"It wouldn't be the first time I've done discrete work, although," she added sardonically, "I guess you know all the details about that now. Everything I did for the Order, my time in hiding."

He did genuinely appear guilty at that last remark, but he swallowed his feelings away and continued to pace. "Look, Katie, if everything I heard and know about you is true, then you're a highly competent witch, and you have more common sense than most Gryffindors I've ever known. But this is different. This is me telling you that working with Igor will be different than working with the Order, and it will be more dangerous."

"May I remind you that we were fighting Lord Voldemort? And that I faced plenty of danger as it was?"

Amit shook his head. "They were dangerous, I'm not dismissing that fact. But they were all British, all working within systems that you understood and studied. Once you go farther away-let's just say you don't even know what they teach at Durmstrang, and you don't know Igor's past."

She stared flatly at him. "Then please, enlighten me."

He pursed his lips. "I can't. Whatever I think of him, I can't betray Igor's trust. But I can tell you that you will be making a grave mistake working for him."

"You can't expect to just barge in here expect me to believe you with nothing to back up your claims," she retorted. When he remained resolutely silent, she sighed. "Amit, I've enjoyed getting to know you this summer. I think you're a good wizard, a good friend to Leanne. But whatever your involvement was at the beginning of this, it's not necessary anymore. I'm doing this for one of my oldest friends, and I'm doing it for myself. All your vague warnings aren't going to change my decision."

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into," he insisted.

"You know what? You're probably right. Maybe I don't. But my entire life, ever since my eleventh birthday when McGonagall showed up and told me I was a witch, I've never known what I was getting myself into. It's never stopped me from doing anything before."

Their eyes met in competition, each trying to force the other to concede through sheer force of will. Katie knew that she would win-however strident Amit's words, her decisions still belonged entirely to herself, and her strong Gryffindor stubborn streak would rear its ugly head long before she retreated in the face of danger.

At last, he backed down. "I should never have introduced you to him in the first place."

"What did you think I was going to do? What was the point of putting me in touch with him in the first place?"

"I thought you were going to be reporting on the issue, not actively involving yourself in the matter."

"The two aren't always mutually exclusive."

His eyes darkened. "No, I suppose not. And now I have your well-being on my conscience, whatever happens."

"If that's how you see it," she told him coolly.

They stood in silence for a moment. Amit appeared to deflate, and he adjusted his glasses across the bridge of his nose and rubbed his sternum intently.

"I suppose I ought to be going," he said, finally puncturing the thick wall of tension.

"Yes, I rather suppose you should," she said quietly.

"I'll see you again, before you leave," he said. "If you change your mind about dealing with Igor, well, I'm happy to intercede on your behalf."

She nodded curtly. "I think I can handle it myself."

"Nevertheless," he said. He walked towards the door, opened it, and hesitated there. "I think we should talk again."

"I'm meeting Leanne for drinks later on in the week. Perhaps I'll see you then," she said stiffly.

Amit's eyes clouded over as the implications of her words sank in. "You know where to find me if you change your mind."

The door slammed on his way out.

Merlin, nothing in her life could be simple anymore, could it?

The rest of her week stretched far too long for her liking. Other than beginning to pack, she stained her hands black every day copying everything on the subject of Oliver's attackers in several notebooks. One notebook she kept for herself, one she needed to present to Lee (he had been paying her for some time after all), and another she kept as a spare, locked away and secured with several wards. It was an arduous process and only served to remind her how much she still needed to learn. She'd been researching the history of separatist and merger movements, borrowing books from the Hogwarts Library via her connections to people like Ginny who were still at school.

The only bright spot which emerged in her week came on Thursday when an owl bearing an envelope swooped into their kitchen that morning. With Alicia at an early practice, only she and Angelina were at breakfast. Katie squinted as the sloppy handwriting gracing the outside of the envelope and a broad grin split her face once she deciphered the scribbles.

Angelina eyed her suspiciously. "What's got you so perky?"

She ripped open the envelope. "If I'm correct, then you and I are going to have a wonderful Saturday afternoon." She finished removing the seal and four tickets fell neatly onto the table. "Tickets to the Puddlemere-Falcons game this Sunday. Best seats in the house."

Angelina swooped over her instantly to inspect the tickets. "Did you go on a bender?" she said, whistling as she evaluated the location. "These must have cost a fortune. No way you can afford that, unless whatever you're doing with Lee is paying you an exorbitant amount, in which case, I'm changing careers."

"Er, no," she said. "These are from Ezra, actually. Sort of part of a date."

Angelina gaped at her wordlessly.

"He offered. It's not like I asked for them!"

"Katie Bell," said Angelina slowly, standing to her feet. "Where have you been all my life? Or, where has this version of you been?"

"Excuse me?"

"Seats like these after a first date? He must be smitten with you."

"We had a good time," she said. "Sure. I don't know what he's thinking though."

"What he's thinking is that you're a catch and he's trying to get you to stick around, or at least remember him once you're off cavorting around the rest of Europe," said Angelina smugly. "And it also means that you can use this to your advantage."

"Angelina!"

"I'm sure he's a nice guy, but let's face it. The bloke is built like a tree, and you've gone and bloody scored yourself a professional Quidditch player willing to shell out tickets like it's nothing. If you're not looking for long term, what else are you looking to get out of it?" When Katie remained quiet, Angelina pursed her lips. "Exactly. It's okay to have superficial relationships. He knows the situation."

"He's a really decent guy, Ange. I'm not trying to use him."

"I know you're not, Katie, and I know that you never would, which is why I'm encouraging you to do so. Just a little bit." She shrugged. "Enjoy your last couple weeks here."

Katie just rolled her eyes. She and Angelina took different approaches to relationships and always had; there was no point in arguing. "Well, you're invited of course," she said. "Four tickets leaves enough for you, me Leanne and 'Leesh."

Angelina stiffened and smoothed over the wrinkles in the edge of _The Daily Prophet_ which lay before her on the table. "I think Alicia has practice then. Or something for the Tornados."

Katie sighed. "Does she actually? Because if this is still about that stupid fight you're having over what really is nothing, I'm not brining either of you."

"No, it's not," said Angelina defensively. "Ask her tonight if you don't believe me."

"I will," said Katie. "But regardless, it's a bloody ridiculous row the two of you are having and I don't even know what it's about at this point. I'd love to have both my friends back before I leave you all."

Angelina's face hardened. "This doesn't concern you anymore, Katie."

"Except that it does. Because I live with you two, and you are both some of my best friends, and it's killing me to see you fighting over something which, frankly, I don't even understand. Why are you so upset with Alicia? I thought you two had made up after Kira came over?"

"Kira is the problem, not Alicia," snapped Angelina. "She's a bloody Slytherin, is what she is, and everything she does—how she dresses, how she talks—merlin, it just screams old money, the sort who used to bully the shite out of us in school, or try to at least."

"So you're writing her off after one dinner?"

Angelina shook her head. "I don't like her. And I don't think she's any good for Alicia."

Katie inhaled deeply, steeling herself for what she was about the say and the consequences it might bring. But it needed to be said. "Angelina, I really didn't want to have to say this, but if you're going to be this bloody stubborn then I will: I have held my tongue for _years_ when I disapproved of your choices, and I know Alicia did as well. Because they were your decisions to make, and you needed to figure shit out on your own. Because we trusted you could handle yourself."

Angelina squared her shoulders and Katie winced. "What situations are you talking about, exactly?" she hissed.

"Well, for starters, Fred," said Katie frankly. "Even when you two were officially dating, it was volatile to say the least. And after you broke up, you kept sleeping together even though every time it ended again, you ended up hurting. It was like a cycle, a terrifying cycle. Everyone had to leave the common room when you fought."

Angelina fumed, but Katie continued. "And even when you weren't with him, when you were sleeping with other blokes, that was fine but we didn't exactly think the world of them either. Marcus Belby? Ange, really?"

"But I was just sleeping with them! It didn't matter who they were!" shouted Angelina, bursting back into the conversation. "Unlike Kira, who Alicia seems to have no plans of ditching."

"And Fred? Was that just four years of nothing?"

"Fred was different than Kira," said Angelina.

"How, exactly, was he different? What made him better?"

"Well he was in Gryffindor to bloody well start," snapped Angelina. "He worked for the Order. He was fighting against You-Know-Who. How's that for a start?"

"Kira wasn't working for You-Know-Who, and I've never seen a drop of prejudice in her, not once. In fact, I've never seen her do anything wrong, whereas Fred and George were regularly experimenting on _children_ with their sweets. Merlin knows I loved both of them, but that was wrong, and you know it!"

That seemed to halt Angelina in her tracks. Katie knew for a fact that they had argued over that very same issue (it was hard not to know, what with their arguments audible for miles around whenever they occurred), and that logically, there was no counter. Maybe Kira had done something as bad, but neither of them were aware of such a situation.

Angelina, who had half risen, sank back into her chair, her auror trainee robes drooped almost listlessly over her shoulders. "It was Fred," she said, and she held out her hands helplessly. "It was Fred. It was different."

"It was different," said Katie. "But that doesn't mean that it was better. And until there's a reason, we need to let Alicia make her own decisions." She grabbed one of Angelina's hands. "I think you would like Kira, if you gave her a chance. She's a lot like you, I think. Headstrong, passionate, and she knows more about fashion than Alicia and I ever would."

Angelina sniffed. "I still don't trust her."

"I'm not asking you to," said Katie. "All I'm asking is for you to give her a chance. She makes Leesh so happy, you know. If nothing else, trust in that."

"Fine," said Angelina. "I'll give her a shot."

"We can talk to her after the game, maybe," she suggested.

"Oh, right, the game. That was where this whole mess started. Sure." She paused. "If Alicia can't come, who are you going to bring?"

"Oh, I don't know said Katie. One of your other favorite people perhaps—I was thinking of asking Oliver."

Angelina groaned and pressed her head in her hands. "You're killing me, Katie," she moaned.

Katie patted her on the shoulder. "It's for your own good."

Angelina opened her eyes blearily. "Lucky for you I have to be at work soon. Otherwise, we'd have to argue over that too."

Katie stood up, scooping up her plate to bring to the kitchen sink and performing a quick _scourgify_. "Yes," she said. "Lucky me."


End file.
